Sight Unseen
by Queen Gwenyvere
Summary: Max and Logan's relationship grew and developed over the course of S1. But what if there was more than the episodes were allowed to show us. Read on and see what I mean. Spoilers for "Rising" through AJBAC. R&R!
1. Everything

Author's Note: Takes place during "Rising"...Logan's POV; it's interesting writing from a male's first person perspective, let me tell you :) This is my first "Dark Angel" fic, so please be kind. The song is by Lifehouse. I don't own any of it, just borrowing it cuz I like the material. All the "Dark Angel" stuff belong to Mr. Titanic and Co. This is a slightly shipperish fic, I'm not ashamed to say. Please R&R!!!  
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Hope.   
  
That's what the doctor, Sam, said. "It's all right to have hope," or something like that. Nevertheless, his caution and efforts of dissuasion told me he had very little for my recovery. But I knew better. Because I had something better than a miracle surgery, better than any drug, better than hope, even.  
  
I had Max.  
  
That night when we were in my apartment, I felt possibly the closest to her I have ever felt since I met her almost six months ago. First, when we were on the couch, my atrophied legs across her lap as she played with my toes in an attempt to get a response that would prove Sam wrong, I felt so close to her, so connected. I could almost feel the warmth of her hands, I saw the glimmer of hope, and joy in her dark eyes when I told her it was her stem cells that were healing me.  
  
Then, later, in the dining room, we were connected in a way he had been only once before, except this time I was conscious enough to enjoy it. I got lost in her eyes as she transfused me again, I'll admit, as we sat across from each other, willing the second transfusion to work. Our bodies moved as one when she leaned forward on to the table, taking my hand in hers. That touch bonded us too. We have grown closer lately, and even if I can't admit it aloud, I know how vital she is a person in my life. When she grew weak and passed out, I remember smiling. Not only because I knew what she was giving me, but also because I knew that this was bonding more so than anything we'd ever been through. I also recall thinking how peaceful and angelic she looked when she slept. She looked almost at rest, as though she felt safe. I truly hope some of that safety I can claim responsibility for.  
  
I don't know why, but I expected her cells to cure me instantly. When I couldn't stand on my own the next day, I was so angry--with her, I'm ashamed to say. It's irrational and foolish, I know, but I wanted so much to walk again. For her. No longer would I have to be the man behind the scenes, the one who provides information, dinner, and the occasional get away car, but in the end always stays home safe and sound while she's out there risking her life for my cause. I wouldn't let Bling help me back in the chair because I knew I had to do it on my own. If she was going to be fighting that cause for me, then I had to be fighting this one for her.  
  
When she came to me and told me the Red supersoldiers were after her again, my heart nearly dropped out of my body. I looked down momentarily, half expecting to see it on the floor next to this damned chair. The only thing on this godforsaken planet besides Manticore that scared Max made me absolutely terrified. The though of losing her to anything-Manticore, Lydecker, the Reds, Zach, the seizures-was more painful to me than anything else, even the prospect of never walking again.  
  
I think I knew at the lab what she would do if she ever had to fight them again, but I was still too angry by the slow process of the stem cells to think about stopping her-not that I could have. Mac cannot be dissuaded from anything, even by me; especially by me. I know that there are many things Max will do for me. Backing down once she has made up her genetically enhanced mind is not one of them.  
  
When I got the phone call that Max had implanted herself with the chip, all my worst fears were realized. I thought that that night I actually might lose her and the pain nearly killed me. I was horrified to learn that I was going to have to pump 5000 volts into her head to save her; I was horrified more to think she might not survive long enough for me to be able to pump those 5000 volts into her.  
  
Knowing she was in danger only strengthened my resolve to stand. Even though I couldn't see what was going on, I could hear it and I knew she did not have much time. I forced myself to stand, forced my dead nerves to live, forced my atrophied muscles to work, forced my weak legs to have strength. I flipped the switch and yelled, "Go Max!" praying I had bought her enough time to save her life.  
  
I know how desperate and pathetic I looked dragging myself across the floor like an infant, but I had to get to her. She needed me. Original Cindy soon joined me, but I hardly registered her presence initially. The only two people in the world were Max, and me and she needed me to save her, instead of the other way around for once. My hands were shaking as Cindy relayed to me the instructions. In the intensity of the moment, I nearly panicked, thinking my trembling hands and her seizing were going to make for a deadly combination and I was going to accidentally cut her spinal chord and paralyze her. The irony of that reality did not escape me. Her seizure was so bad I found myself cursing Donald Lydecker and the B.P. US Government for doing this to her.  
  
It's incredible how much can go through your mind in a split second.  
  
After Cindy have her the shock, Max stopped trembling. It took he longer to stop, however. My heart soared when her breathing returned to normal. I kept smoothing her hair and touching her face, talking to her gently. "I'm here, Max, it's all right, you're okay now." I remember learning in my college psychology lecture that touch is comforting to sick people and it helps them heal faster. I hardly doubt the touch of my hands were any great healer as opposed to all the Manticore technology that coursed through her body, but the way I figured it, it couldn't hurt. And I couldn't stop touching her. I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss away her pain. But then reality hit and I remembered I was a cripple sitting on the floor of a trashed office and Cindy was giving me strange looks.  
  
"You love my Boo, don'tcha Wheel Boy?" she asked in such true Original Cindy fashion that I couldn't help but laugh. I looked at her, but was unable to answer. She seemed not to care though. Looking at Max, curled up in a fetal position, slightly snuggling into my touch, Cindy asked, "How did she do all that?"  
  
I sighed, resting my fingertips along Max's jaw line. "That's something I think she needs to tell you. It's not my place, nor is it my right."  
  
Cindy bowed her head for a while, and I think she was trying to hide from me that she was crying. After a time, she looked at me. "We need to get my Homegirl home."  
  
I shook my head, "They might have her apartment under surveillance."  
  
"I meant yours," Cindy said with the slightest hint of exasperation. Her statement, I admit, took me by surprise. As I dwelled in my shock, Cindy leapt to her feet and put her hands on her hips, reminding me of Max. She asked, "Where's your chair, Boo?"  
  
I mumbled to her that it was out near the lobby. She went and got it for me, graciously allowing me to be alone with Max. It sounds slightly perverse, but with Max unconscious, I could say everything I needed to say to her without worrying she was going to blaze. Getting on my stomach, I dragged myself closer to her, positioning myself so I was on my side facing her. Reaching out I brushed my fingers over the cut on her eyebrow. As best I could, I wiped the blood from her eyes.  
  
"That was incredibly stupid of you, Max Guerva," I said, surprised at the shakiness in my voice. "How could you run off without any back up?" I know she does it all the time, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. "You could have been killed and I--" I could hear Cindy coming back with the chair. "I don't think I could stand that. I need you."  
  
"Aiight Boo," Cindy announced. "Let's get your skinny white ass back in this chair."  
  
She was surprisingly strong and helped me back in my chair without much difficulty. As she stooped to gather Max's limp form, I ran my hands over the shiny steel bars of the chair, wondering how much longer I would be its prisoner, how much longer it would be until I no longer needed it. Original Cindy huffed a little under Max's dead weight and handed her off to me. We settled Max into my lap, her arms around my neck, her head resting against my shoulder.   
I wrapped my arms securely around her waist and held her tightly as Cindy wheeled us towards my car.  
  
It was a long night watching Max, waiting for her to have another seizure, wondering if she was going to stop breathing, or if the incision I made in her neck was going to start bleeding again. Cindy slept fitfully in the guest room, while I remained in my chair by Max's side, or in my office on the computer, seeing what else I could discover about the soldiers. I could not stay in there for long though, and wheeled myself back out to her. I fell asleep in the chair around five, only to be woken by dawn's light and the sounds of Original Cindy banging around in my kitchen in an attempt to make coffee. She didn't look any better than she had the night before; she was still obviously worried about what she had seen in Max.  
  
When Max finally woke, it took all my strength and resolve not to take her in my arms and crush her in an embrace. Instead, I silently thanked God and asked, "How are you feeling?" Her response of sarcasm in an attempt to cover her obvious pain was music to my ears. Her eyes were still bloodshot and her skin was still slightly ashen, her hair still slick with sweat, but I thought she looked beautiful.  
  
"I nearly got my best friend killed," she exclaimed and my heart broke. I could see something hidden behind her eyes, and heard the deeper meaning in her statement. Cindy was not the only one she had nearly gotten killed. At that moment, I ached to tell her how wrong she was. It wasn't that she had nearly gotten me killed; it was that she had saved me, numerous times, and in more ways then I could mention.  
  
I'm slightly ashamed to admit it, but I listened to their discussion from my office. I somehow knew though Max would appreciate it, once she got over the initial anger, if she ever found out I was listening to her private conversation. On the other hand, maybe she did.  
  
"You're not even human," Original Cindy said.  
  
I winced. *Ouch* I thought. I remembered similar words I had uttered to Max when we had first met. I called her a "genetically enhanced killing machine." Not exactly a term of endearment. I made a mental note to begin calling her something that would not draw attention to nor remind her of her Manticore Family childhood. I could hear them both crying and wanted nothing more than to take away all of Max's pain, kill anyone who would make her cry. I smiled to myself when I heard Cindy say, "You're my Boo, for life."  
  
*Finally here once speak to me  
I want to feel you, I need to hear you  
You are the light that's leading me to the place  
where I find peace again*  
  
Life.   
  
Max gave me mine back. I paged her, knowing she probably thought I had a new case for her. I led her into the main room, in front of the big window that beheld the not so picturesque Seattle nighttime skyline. I made her cover her eyes. "I have a surprise for you," I told her, reveling childishly in the pleasure of teasing her. Slowly and silently, I locked my chair and stood, never once taking my eyes off her face. Her cat DNA sensed my new, closer presence, and her hands fell from her face, her eyes popping open, wide with shock. We were inches apart, even less, and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face. I smiled down at her.  
  
*You are the strength that keeps me walking  
You are the hope that keeps me trusting  
You are the light to my soul  
You are my purpose  
You're everything*  
  
"It's a miracle," she breathed, unable to find words. I had to smile at that, for Max Guerva was not a woman who was easily silenced.  
  
*And how can I stand here with you  
And not be moved by it*  
  
"You're the miracle," I told her softly, meaning every word of it. "You did this. You gave me my life back." I reached out to her, placing my hands along her forearms. She stepped a fraction of an inch closer to me and once again, I felt the irresistible urge to take her in my arms.  
  
*Would you tell me how could it be any better than this  
You calm the storms and you give me rest  
You hold me in your hands  
You won't let me fold*  
  
"I'd forgotten how tall you were," she said with a slight chuckle as we stood there, staring at each other, so close out faces were nearly touching. I slowly leaned down, perfectly intent on kissing her when...my legs gave out and I sagged a little. She immediately caught me in her arms, as I knew she would, and now it was her face that was above mine. She tenderly helped me back into my chair. "Gotta take it easy," she said with a mischievous grin.  
  
"I don't want to take it easy," I replied, smiling. "I want to go fast."  
  
*You still my heart when you take my breath away  
Would you take me in take me deeper now  
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this  
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this*  
  
"There's been something I've wanted to do with you since the day I met you," Max said, an evilly mischievous glint in her eyes. The possibilities in that one statement made me break out into the biggest grin I have ever worn in my life and I knew that something unspoken passed between us there, an admission of our deepening relationship.  
  
I had no idea, however, what it was that she wanted to do with me. And I might not have guessed if she had given me a thousand years. She got my coat for me and wheeled me to the elevator, which we rode in silence. She was tight lipped about what we were going to do. When the elevator opened, the wheeled me to the lobby doors and locked the chair. To my surprise, she tore the handle off the door and bent it easily, molding it into a lock that would prevent my wheelchair from being stolen. Gently, she slipped an arm under my shoulders and I draped one of mine across hers, as she steadied me and I took my first ginger step. It took a while, but we made it outside.  
  
*Cause you're all I want, you're all I need  
You're everything...everything  
You're all I want  
You're all I need  
You're everything...everything*  
  
"You've wanted to walk with me?" I asked incredulously.  
  
She smiled again, "Oh no, Logan Cale, I have something much better than just walking in mind." She propped me up against the exterior wall and said, "Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." Before I could answer, she took off like a shot.  
  
Moments later, my heart began to pound as I hear her motorcycle come around the corner from the parking garage. *She wouldn't* I thought to myself. Then I saw her taking the helmet off her head and holding it in my direction.  
  
*You're all I want  
You're all I need  
You're everything...everything  
You're all I want  
You're all I need  
Everything...everything*  
  
As we sped through the streets of Seattle, Max seated behind me, her arms around my waist as she yelled instructions in my ear, I screamed with outright joy. Not only had she given me back my life and my legs, she had given me the power to fly. The wind whipped past us and roared through our ears. I knew that, just as we were driving into the dark streets of Seattle, we were also headed for some dark times, into things she and I had never faced before. I just knew it, in my gut. Maybe it was my journalistic instincts talking to me, or maybe it was the despair I had seen in Max's eyes when we were talking about the Reds.   
  
*And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this  
And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it  
Would you tell me how could it be any better any better than this*  
  
Nevertheless, just as I knew something was coming, and that we were going to possibly need all the miracles we could get, I also knew that together, we could face anything.  
  
*And how can I stand here with you and not be moved by it  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this  
Would you tell me how could it be any better than this *  



	2. I Looked Into your Eyes

Author's Note: As always, these are not mine, neither the songs nor the characters, even if I wish they WERE mine. BTW, for some reason or another I put my own little side comments into this story. I didn't know how well they work in the frame of the story though. This is set after "The Kids Are Aiight" I wanted to write something where Max found out about Logan's problem, but resolve it where she can still be surprised if he actually DOES tell her in some future Ep. I might start an Ep Ender Series, with "Everything" and this story being the first two parts. What do you think? Feedback, as always, is craved! And now, without further ado, on with the show.  
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Things were easier when I just didn't give a damn. But I read somewhere that life is never easy. Which probably explains my latest problem. The problem is I DO give a damn. I care so much. I'm sure Lydecker would be very disappointed. He'd call me weak and pathetic, among other things. Screw him.  
  
What do I care about? My Homegirls, of course, Kendra and Original Cindy. Cindy, obviously, knows my secret, which makes her even more important to me. I am, after all, her boo for life. Kendra's one of the funniest bitches I know. She's a total sex maniac, but the girl's got a heart of gold, even if she is at the moment shacking up in Mr. Multiple' s den-o-lovin'. Yuck!  
  
What else do I care about? Well, my boys, Sketchy and Herbal. They make my everyday living hell known as work a little less handelable. And, given the fact that I risked my neck and a very nice dress to save his ass a few weeks ago, I guess in some sick and twisted way I care about Normal too, the stupid Type-A germ phobic asshole. But if anyone ever tries to get me to admit that, I'll kick their ass.  
  
I care about saving my own ass, and keeping out of Lydecker's clutches. I've come way too close for comfort too many times. I'd rather die than end up back at Manticore. I've come too far. I have too much to lose here. Like my baby. If I ended up back at good ol'Project Manticore, she would be in a chop shop in no time.  
  
I care about my sibs. They are my family. Jondy, Brin, Zach the occasional shithead, all of them; they know what I've been through. They know what my life has been like. We are X-5's, Manticore trained supersoldiers with minds of our own, jonseing for freedom. I am different from them, though. That's why Zach and I clash on so many things. I'm not the perfect little soldier he wishes I were. Asshole. In that respect, he's just like Lydecker. Don't get me wrong, I love Zach, but he's the biggest prick I've ever met. He's my brother, and I'll love him forever, but not like he loves me. I know that and so does he. He knew I'd never leave Logan. Not after last time.  
  
Because dammit, I care about him too. I have given him my blood twice and nearly was killed for him and his stupid Eyes Only crusader cause. I guess I am captain of the Logan Cale Brigade, huh? But he's given me something to believe in, I know that; he makes me believe in more than just the fact that I am not completely human. He's made me believe in myself. He's made me believe in him harder than I've ever believed in anyone. He's gotten me thinking he might actually save what's left of this world. That is, if he can stop self destructing first. He's pushing himself too hard. He thinks my blood is a cure-all. It may be repairing his nerve damage, but he still has a long way to go. I know he's been having trouble. He forgets my cat DNA gives me a heightened sense of hearing.  
  
When I had my nose in his fridge-God, that sounds so wrong-I heard his grunts as his legs gave out. My first instinct was to run to him, but I knew that wasn't what he wanted. I was hurt when he lied to me and asked me to leave, because I was hoping he'd quit the macho crap and ask me for help. I could hear him groaning in pain as I stood on the other side of the door.  
  
I made myself come here, to the Needle, because I knew he didn't want my help. Not then.  
  
He's so goddamned stubborn! And he's got one hell of a double standard. He'd get angry as hell with me if I tried to hide my seizures or pretend they weren't a problem. He'd tell me not to be ashamed of them even though he's ashamed of his own disability. Sometimes I want to scream at him "Why is it okay for you to hide your problems when you won't let me hid mine." He won't let me hide *from* them either.  
  
He's always doing that, trying to protect me and save me. I wonder if he sees me as the ultimate cause. I see him fight so hard for others and wonder what made him like that; I wish I knew what his inspiration was. I think if he thought he had a chance in hell, he might have actually fought me to keep me from going after Zach. I really really really wanted to be mad at him for that; I tried my damndest, but I couldn't, not really. I suppose that's why I came right back to Logan's apartment once I had freed Zach.  
  
Goddammit! When did this happen to me? More importantly, *how* did it happen? How did I let Logan Cale get under my skin? He makes me want to lose control and *like* it, and that scares me more than anything. How can I want to get so close to someone? Don't I know how bad that is? Not only for me, but also for them? Anyone who gets close to me could end up dead. And I think I'd rather never see Logan again and live with the fact that knowing me caused his death. He makes me feel warm inside. I don't know if I like it. At Manticore, Lydecker told us that these kinds of feelings make us weak. I bet he didn't get any in high school.  
  
Speaking of Logan and Lydecker, my buddy Eyes Only sure as hell risked exposure by alerting the other X-5's. Lydecker and his goons are gonna try and hunt him down. But I'll be damned if I let him find Logan.  
  
(A/N: Now the story is going to shift verb tenses a little. It's still Max's POV, but she's telling us what happened after she got off the Needle. I could not think of a good segue. Sorry.)  
  
The next thing I knew I was back on my baby, heading over to Foggle Towers. It was way past curfew and I had to be creative to avoid the sector police. I walked my baby the last three blocks and his her in some bushes so she wouldn't be stolen. I didn't want Logan to know I was there, so I resorted to my genetically enhanced superpowers and scaled the exterior wall of his building. Ironically, I got in through the same window I had plunged out of when I first met him.  
  
I felt kinda bad breaking into Logan's apartment, but I didn't want him to know I was there and pretend nothing was wrong. I was counting on the fact that he would be too focused on his own deal to notice I was being all stealthy.  
  
* I looked into your eyes  
they told me plenty  
I already knew*  
  
I found him in his office. From where I was standing, he could not see me, but I could see him. He was back in his wheelchair. Seeing him sitting in that chair made my heart hurt. As I watched silently, Logan leaned on to his desk and slowly rose to his feet. His balance was tentative, but I watched him gain confidence; eventually he stood straight and tall. I smiled when I saw him smile. He turned and I stepped deeper into the shadows. With a smug grin, he kicked the wheelchair and sent it crashing into the wall.  
  
*So soon forgotten  
all that you do  
is more than words  
I tried to tell you  
the more I tried I failed*  
  
Then his legs gave out and he fell to the floor.  
  
*I would stand by you no matter what they'd say*  
  
That was it. I couldn't watch silently anymore. I slowly walked into the office, leaning against the doorframe. "Do you want some help?" I tried to look indifferent, but seeing him in so much agony made me sad.  
  
He was on his stomach and he tried to prop himself up on his elbows, attempting to hide the pain on his face. "M-Max," he stuttered, trying pathetically to cover his own ass. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone home."  
  
*I used to think my life  
was often empty  
a lonely space to fill*  
  
I knew he wasn't going to answer my question directly, so I walked to him and crouched at his side. He was still playing hide and seek with the truth and me so I decided to indulge him, slightly. "I didn't find a decent bite to eat, so I came back to my tried and true meal ticket." I tried to smile for him. I could see he didn't believe my white-assed lie anymore than I could believe any BS he could cook up about why he was moping the floor with the clothes he was still wearing.  
  
*You made my world stand still  
and in that stillness  
there was a freedom I never felt before*  
  
I reached out and smoothed this disheveled hair from his face. "You want me to get the chair?" I asked gently.  
  
"No," he said quietly. "I want you.." He trailed off. Dammit, I thought he was going to tell me to go away. If that happened, I was going to fling him over my shoulder and carry him into his bedroom. Wait, that sounds wrong too. You know what I mean. "I want you to help me into my bedroom."   
  
Okay, so I was wrong. The look on his face as he made the connection that I could be in his bedroom was priceless. I held back my laughter.  
  
It took us a long time, but we eventually made it into his bedroom. (A/N: Does anyone else find that line prophetic? ::looks around:: Just me? Damn.) I had my arm around his waist and I fostered much of his weight as he leaned against me, his arm across my shoulders.  
  
I sat him on the edge of the bed and went in search of his pajamas. I tossed them in his direction and asked, "SO you, uh, need any more help?"  
  
He smiled and I thought my own legs were going to give out, "No, thanks Max. I can take it from here."  
  
I smiled. "Okay then, I'm gonna bounce." I wanted to get out of there before I gave into the raging desires in my head. Whoa! Where the hell did they come from? Definitely, time to bounce. I turned to leave.  
  
"Max?" His voice was soft and gruff and it stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned around to look at him. He was staring uncomfortably at his hands. "If you knew, why didn't you say something sooner?"  
  
I shrugged, "Why didn't you?"  
  
HE rolled his eyes. He hates it when I answer a question with a question. "Were you ever going to ask?"  
  
I shrugged again, "I figured you would tell me when you were ready."  
  
"I will," he murmured and I got the sense we weren't talking about his legs anymore.  
  
"You owe me dinner, Eyes Only," I said like a true smart-ass. "I'm gonna cash that rain check soon."  
  
He smiled again, "I'm counting on it."  
  
I tried to smile to hide my nervousness. Then I left without another word, determined to just get away. Logan and I weren't ready. Not yet.  
  
Yep, it was definitely easier when I didn't give a damn.  
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I know, this one was rather weak, but it was the best I could do. Comments? Feedback?  



	3. Safe From the Pain

Author's Note: Set during/post "Female Trouble." The song is by Dave Matthews Band...thanks to my b/f for that one I guess; he's the one who got me listening to them. The characters aren't mine; this is just me writing for fun. One of these days I'm gonna turn this and my other episode-based fics ("Everything" and "I Looked Into Your Eyes") in a series. I'm taking title suggestions for said series. Okay, enough chitchat...Happy Reading!  
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Max was hurt when Logan forgot about their plans. Not only because she had spent a good deal of money on the scalped basketball tickets, but because it was so very un-Logan Cale-like. That was her first clue something was not right. When Bling told her that Logan had sold the painting---the one left to him by his mother---Max grew even more suspicious. Original Cindy's warnings about the ways of the three-legged junior only gave Max more cause for concern. Not because she thought Logan was cheating on her-they were *just* friends after all---but because she knew something else was on his mind. She just didn't know what.  
  
Driving to the clinic, Logan knew he was blowing off a date with max, something he had been dreaming about for a long time; something no sane man would do. However, he was not completely sane. And on some level Logan knew that. He was growing obsessed with staying on his feet. Ever since the accident, he had been reaching for that goal, but it had never seemed possible. Then, with Max's miraculous gift, the prospect of having a totally normal life once more was dangled tauntingly in front of him. And Logan was damned if he was going to have it snatched away.  
  
Max knew Logan would be angry with her for following him to the clinic, but she didn't care. Her heart nearly stopped when she realized he was seeing a doctor. Looking down through the skylight, Max wanted to cry, or fight something, because she felt in some way responsible for Logan's paralysis. He had, after all, been wounded doing something she had refused to assist. She couldn't help but think maybe if she had been there, things would have turned out differently. Maybe that was why she now fought so hard for him. She couldn't bare the thought of anything else happening to him. Which was why, after having saved Doctor Vertese from Jace, Max was horrified to discover Logan's messiah-physician was a Manticore butcher.  
  
Logan was furious when Max interrupted and disconnected the phone call with his Eyes Only informant. Then he saw the anger and hurt in her eyes, and the cuts, bruises, and blood on her face. For a moment, his heart softened and he wanted to take away all her pain. Then he began to feel his own excruciating pain and he got angry all over again. In some way, he was even getting angry at max, because her blood had stopped working. "I didn't want to tell you, for all kinds of reasons." He wondered if she knew what all those reasons were; he didn't want her pity, and he didn't want to make her feel bad that her blood had stopped working, nor did he want to admit to himself what was happening---he was too proud. Then his legs gave out. In front of Max. And he was furious.  
  
For the second time in as many days, Max felt the sting of being pushed away by the all powerful, unneedy Logan Cale. Only this time, she actually *was* physically pushed away. His strength did not really surprise her; while he had been confined to the wheelchair, she knew he had been working out, especially concentrating on his upper body. But what hurt most, more than being pushed away or lied to, was the accusation, the implied meaning behind his words. "I gotta ask you. Is it easier with me in the chair?" The fury from that one question had caused her to fling the jacket at him, even though only moments before the only thing she had wanted to do was take him in her arms, if he would let her.  
  
They drove to the safe house in an uneasy silence. Logan knew he had hurt Max, again, and that he shouldn't push her away, but all he could focus on at the moment was that he was frighteningly close to landing back in the chair, for good. Even her words, do heartfelt, that on any other day would have made him want to kiss her, did little to make him feel better. "For the first time in six months I felt what it was like to be whole again, to be complete."  
  
"You've never not been that to me."   
  
It was such an honest admission, Max showing him vulnerability she normally hid from everyone, but Logan was far too despondent to realize. Dimly, he wondered why he had stressed "anything" when he had told her staying out of the chair was the most important thing in his life. He knew truthfully that it wasn't; she was, and had been since the moment she had entered his life. But he was too busy trying to stay whole for her and for himself to see how far away he was pushing her.  
  
The only reason she didn't let Jace get Vertese was that Logan needed her. He needed a Manticore doctor, truly one of the brides of Mengele, more than he needed Max. And Max felt the sting of not being needed. She liked that he needed her. It was the closest to feeling loved she had ever gotten. And Max had to admit, when Jace told her Lydecker had killed Vertese, she had wanted to weep. Because she knew as acutely as he did when she told him, that Logan's last chance for walking had just been exterminated from the face of the earth. Seeing the pain in his face when she told him broke Max's heart. She could hear the relief in his voice because she was safe, and still Manticore free, but she knew that Logan was hurting inside. Maybe that was why she had been so clumsy, to allow the file to be knocked from her hand. The words "despondent" and "suicidal thoughts" had made her so afraid she barely remembered dashing from Vertese's office and jumping on her bike. The only thing Max could think about was Logan, dead on the floor from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. And the pain from that image hurt more than any other pain she had ever felt.  
  
As he sat in his office, banging his legs against the table, Logan wished he could feel pain. He wished he could feel hurt. He wished he could feel anything. All he felt was empty. The numbness in his lower extremities had made its way to his core, and he felt numb all over, inside and out. He couldn't feel happiness when he found out Max was safe. He couldn't feel comfort in her words that they would find another way. All he could feel was the aching, the emptiness, and the loneliness. He had Max, and yet not really---he wondered if anything happened to him, would she truly mourn. She had her sibs, her peeps, her job, and her ass to keep out of the Manticore sling. Did she really need him? Did anyone? Was Eyes Only more of his own personal crusade than a national help? Would the world really miss Eyes Only? Would the world really miss Logan Cale? He knew his family wouldn't. Bling might, for a while, but he'd get over it. And Max, Max was strong. She would survive. Who knows, she might even survive better without him than with him. The gun felt cold, heavy in his hand-it was the only thing he'd been able to feel in days that wasn't pain form injections or frustration from failure. And then he felt the water.  
  
Max's heart pounded in her chest as she raced through the streets of Seattle, playing Lydecker wasn't on the prowl, or she wouldn't get pulled over for speeding by Sector police. The wind whipped at her face and tried the tears as fast as they fell. For that, she was thankful. No matter what she discovered when arriving at Foggle Towers, Logan did *not* need to see her crying. The ambulance in front of the building made Max's heart skip a beat. She ditched her bike and raced up the stairs to his apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Besides, it was on the floor above Logan's---it would take too long to descend to her and return to his floor. She could hear the silence in his apartment and it frightened her-he was not there. Did that mean he was in the ambulance? She did not smell blood, nor did she smell gunpowder or the smoke of a recently fired gun. Then she heard the click of his front door and the familiar sound of the wheels of his chair moving across the hard wood floor. She flew in that direction and propelled herself in his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his body, calming her fears with the sounds of his breathing, rejoicing in his scent and feeling his arms around her.  
  
Logan had to admit, he was shocked when he had found Max in his apartment, her eyes full of fear. He could see her chest rise and fall sharply as she tried to catch her breath. Before he realized what was happening she was at his side and in his arms, telling him how scared she was. He buried his face in her soft dark hair and inhaled her scent, feeling himself pulled back into reality. He could feel the weight of her in his arms. He could feel her arm around his waist and shoulders as she clutched him desperately. He could feel her sigh of relief when he told her it was okay. He could feel again. He could feel her. Then he remembered the gun was still sitting out in the open. There was nothing he could do but put it away, even though he knew she would see it. He just hoped he could keep up his "I'm a Despondent Bastard" act long enough to put the gun away with revealing to her how close he had come to using it on himself.  
  
"Is she gonna be okay?" Max asked, knowing that she wasn't really asking about the old woman upstairs. She watched as he put the gun away and wondered what he would have done if the water from the overflowed sink hadn't begun to drip on him.  
  
"Yeah," he smiled half-heartedly, applying the question to himself. Was he going to be okay? He had nearly blown himself away. And for what? Because he might be back in a wheelchair. He wondered how much justification that actually was. The woman upstairs had been right---he *did* have everything to live for. He was young, and well to do, and even if he felt guilty for it, it was a fact of his life. He had family, even if they were insufferable, and he had friends. And he had Max. Which was probably his greatest gift of all. Logan felt a pang as he realized how close he had come to losing it all, to losing her, between going to Vertese behind her back and nearly killing himself. He could see the relief in her eyes and hope swelled through him. As did guilt---because he knew he had hurt her. Numerous times.  
  
They stared at each other in silence for what seemed like hours. Then they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. Blushing, Max and Logan went back and forth for a few minutes on who should speak until they laughed at the silliness of such an argument. Logan decided to go first, but he suggested they move into the living room. It was more comfortable than the cramped computer room---the one with the gun in the corner drawer.   
  
They sat on the couch, a cushion apart, Max waiting for Logan to speak, Logan waiting to get the courage too. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke. "I'm sorry."  
  
*You cannot quit me so quickly  
Is no hope in you for me  
No corner you could squeeze me  
But I've got all the time for you love*  
  
Max softened and all the anger she had been harboring drained from her body. She knew what he was apologizing for, but she still had to know. "You were going to do it, weren't you?"  
  
*Damn*, Logan thought, knowing she knew what he had been up too. He looked nervously at his hands, then out the window. Turning back to Max, he sighed, 'How did you know?"  
  
She frowned, "Didn't your mother teach you it's not polite to answer a question with a question?"   
  
He chuckled.  
  
*The space between  
The tears we cry is the laughter that keeps us coming back for more  
The space between  
The wicked lies we tell to keep us safe from the pain  
Will I hold you again*  
  
Max reached out and took his hand, "Logan talk to me, please." It was a huge jump for her, Max Guerva, also known as She Who Didn't Give a Damn. But the truth was, she *did* give a damn. Especially about the wounded and broken man sitting across from her.  
  
*These fickle fuddled words confuse me  
Like will it rain today  
We waste the hours with talking talking  
These twisted games we're playing*  
  
Logan averted his eyes. He knew he was going to get lost in hers if he wasn't careful. "Max, I'm fine, really."  
  
She growled, "You're not fine. You might be on your way to fine and dandy, but you're not even nearing Spiffy-ville at the moment. And if you are, it's because some gimpy old woman with a bad hip gave you an epiphany." Max's temper flared and she struggled to control it.  
  
Logan hung his head. "How the hell do you know me so well?"  
  
*We're strange allies  
With warring hearts  
What a wild eyed beast you be*  
  
Max shrugged, "I dunno."  
  
*The space between  
The wicked lies we tell that hope to keep us safe from the pain*  
  
As Logan watched, Max scooted across the couch and sat close to him, unknowingly positioning herself so that, to the unknowingly spectator, it looked like his arm was around her. "So," she ventured cautiously. "How close were you to blowing it all away?"  
  
His head dropped against his arm and he realized how close her face was to his. He could feel her warm breath against his skin. *I almost gave all this up* he realized sadly. Looking into her eyes, Logan admitted, "I probably would have done it if the water hadn't gotten me."  
  
That sent Max reeling. In her heart, she had known the truth, but hearing the words spoken made it too real. "Why?" she demanded, springing off the couch. "How could you do that?" *To me?* her mind added. *Shut up!* Max yelled at her own inner monologue.  
  
*Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster  
You know you went off like the devil in the church  
In the middle of a crowded room  
All we can do my love  
Is hope we don't take this ship down*  
  
Logan could see the anger and fear in her eyes and wondered where the fear had come from. He knew they were friends, but he was genuinely surprised to discover how pained his loss would have made her. *Oh come on Cale, you know she digs you,* Logan heard a voice that sounded like Bling. And he felt guilty. Because he *did* know. He loved her. And he began beating himself for thinking he could make things easier by removing himself from her life. Because deep down, he knew that it would kill her as much if he died as it would him if she died.  
  
"Max," he said softly, extending an arm to her. "Sit down. Let me try to explain." Hesitantly, Max sat, back on the other side of the couch, away from him.  
  
*The space between   
Where you smile and hide  
That's where you'll find me if I get to go*  
  
"Start talking'," she said firmly. "Make me understand."  
  
He sighed, "It started the night you ran off to get Zach. As if that didn't hurt enough, my legs gave out not long after you left. At first, I thought it was a fluke, but it happened again, when I started to make us dinner again when we got back from helping Tinga." Logan watched as Max put the pieces together. She simply nodded, expecting him to continue. He took a deep breath, "I didn't want you to know." He frowned. "I said that before."  
  
She nodded, smiling sympathetically, "You said you didn't want to tell me, for all kinds of reasons. What reasons, Logan?"  
  
He threw up his hands, "Because I didn't want you to feel bad that the blood wasn't working. I didn't want you to try it again, or something riskier, just so I could walk. And I was too damned afraid because if I admitted it to you, I would be admitting it to myself. I guess you could say I was too proud."  
  
She chuckled, "Hell, I could have told you that, Logan Cale. You are one of the proudest men I know."  
  
*The space between  
The bullets in our fire fight  
Is where I'll be hiding waiting for you  
The rain that falls  
Splashed in your heart  
Ran like sadness down the window into your room*  
  
Max climbed closer to him again, "But you're also one of the men I know who I'm proudest of. As much as I kick your ass about it, I think it's wonderful what you do with Eyes Only." She could see the shock waves that admission sent through him and she smiled.  
  
*The space between   
Our wicked lies is  
The hope to keep safe from pain*  
  
Logan blushed slightly, knowing she was noticing it, "Thank you Max. You don't know what that means to me."   
  
*You don't know how much you mean to me*, she thought, but decided not to say. Instead, she reached out to him, placing a hand on top of his, "Logan, from now on, if you get like that, you have to tell me." She took a giant step, "We have to stop keeping secrets from each other."  
  
*Take my hand  
Cause we're walking out of here  
Right out of here  
Is all we need dear*  
  
Logan stared into her eyes, searching for anything hidden there. To his surprise, he found her eyes completely open and expressive. She meant it. "I-I promise," he stuttered.  
  
*The space between  
What's wrong and right  
Is where you'll find me hiding  
Waiting for you*  
  
Then Logan flashed her one of his winning smiled and she tried not to melt. "That goes for you too, you know," he said. "You can't keep secrets either."  
  
Max nodded, "I know. I'll try."  
  
*The space between  
Your heart and mind  
Is the space we'll fill with time*  
  
"So will I," he promised sincerely.  
  
*The space between  
The tears we cry is the laughter keeps us coming back for more  
The space between  
Our wicked lies where we hope to keep safe from pain*  
  
Max and Logan sat in silence for a long time. It grew dark in Seattle and the friends remained, enjoying each other's company. They both realized how close they had come to losing each other and it frightened them, more than either of them wanted to admit. To Logan's surprise, at one point, Max snuggled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she had explained, "I've been kicking ass for days, trying to keep Jace out of Lydecker's jaws, and running all over Seattle hoping you were still alive. I think I need a little sleep, don't you?"  
  
He smiled, "Of course. You could sleep in the guest room."  
  
"Nah," she said sleepily. "It'll just be a nap. Here's fine, unless of course you want me to move."  
  
"Nah," he murmured, kissing her hair, hoping she wouldn't bolt. "I like it here fine."  
  
"Me too, she mumbled before slipping off to sleep. As she slumbered, Logan watched her, thinking of how peaceful she felt. Once again, she had saved his life. If she hadn't been in the apartment, despite Mrs. Morone's words, Logan knew he might have still pulled the trigger, simply because he was feeling sorry for himself.  
  
Logan relished the feeling of having Max in his arms, knowing it wouldn't last too long. She had to get down to the South market to see Jace off, he knew. Logan also knew that it was the eleventh anniversary of her escape from Manticore. He wondered if he should offer to celebrate. Then he looked down upon her napping form, and knew that this was enough. For now.  
  
*The space between  
The space between*  
_____________________________________________________________________________  
  
Please R&R!!!! It's the nice thing to do.  
  
  
  
  



	4. Only So Much

Author's Notes: Spoilers for "Haven." I had a few bones to pick with this ep...it had great potential, but what was with the "Last Stand at Ruby Ridge" thing? Err...the writers need to just accept that a good portion of their 12-million a week viewers are shippers...Max and Logan need to cut the crap and admit they've got it bad for each other...it'd prolly make the it easier on the actors too...they could stop pretending they aren't together in real life. *Sigh* Okay, end of tirade. The characters aren't mine; I'm not the one who raised the Titanic. The song belongs to Fisher...I know some of my readers don't like songs in my fics, so instead of putting the lyrics throughout the story (as I usually do), I'm going to put it at the end and you can read the lyrics if you like. Enjoy the reading!  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Max was so incredibly excited to be taking a vacation. With Logan. The last part was the general reason for her excitement, whether or not she was willing to admit it. She was practically jumping up and down as she waited in the gas line with Sketchy. Finally, she would be getting a break from Military Seattle, Pulse-induced dullness and depression, Jam Pony and Normal, Lydecker and Manticore; this would be her opportunity to leave it all behind. She could hardly wait to be at the cabin, with Logan, in front of a fire, eating s'mores...  
  
Then she was pissed when she discovered Logan in his "I'm a Self-pitying Despondent Bastard" mode. He was back in the chair and had automatically, and in her opinion, selfishly, decided that their big vacation plans were now canceled because his legs had given out again. Whoop-dee-doo, he was back in the chair. So freakin what? How long was it going to take before she was able to pound into his head that she didn't care about the chair, that he wasn't any less of a person, of a man, to her, because he was paralyzed? None of it mattered to her; she cared about him, not the amount of mobility he had. But somewhere, deep down, Max knew that wasn't entirely true-if she had to run again, she knew he wouldn't be able to go with her if he was still in the chair. And the thought of leaving him broke her heart.  
  
Logan knew he was confusing the hell out of Max, and pissing her off a good deal probably too. He knew she was going to be angry he was bailing on their trip because of his legs but he couldn't help it. Rolling along the bumpy terrain with Max looming above him wasn't nearly as romantic as a quiet stroll in the woods, where at any moment he would be able to turn to her and hold her to his chest. Pulling her across his lap somehow seemed less romantic, at least for a weekend in the country. Then when he saw the sector passes and heard what she'd gone through to, ahem, obtain them, he knew she was giving him an opportunity to get some time away with her and work on Eyes Only.  
  
Even though they flirted in the car, he knew she was going to be angry when she discovered it was a working vacation. He could sense her suspicion when they passed the road to the cabin. As much as he wanted to spend a quiet weekend with Max, Logan knew his sense of guilt would not allow him to, not when there was work to be done, wrongs to be righted. His overdeveloped and sometimes misplaced sense of guilt made him angry and annoyed when Max got angry with him.   
  
But she wanted to have a good time. Preferably with him, but if he was going to be stubborn about saving the world, max was going to find fun without him. Sage was nice; he was everything she wished she could have been as a kid. Someone who lived in a nice quiet town with nice quiet folks. Someone who woke daily to the smell of fresh air, not military sterility or the fumes of the city. Her seizures were the only other thing keeping her from fully enjoying her weekend. She wished they would go away, but she knew they wouldn't, so she tried to work through them. When Logan showed up at the bar, she was momentarily afraid of him finding out her seizures had kicked up with a vengeance. But then she saw him take one look at the empty milk glass and one look at her slightly trembling form, and saw the compassion and worry in his eyes. She wondered why he wouldn't accept the same from her.  
  
They were having a half decent time, plying pool, flirting a little, until Logan got jealous and tried to protect her virtue-she had to laugh at his old fashion values-and ended up getting his ass dumped out of the chair. She knew it was more of a blow to his ego than anything else, but it sent him crashing back into "Despondent Bastard" mode faster than she could say "Time to bounce." The next morning they fought again, Max growing angry that he was angry. She was pulling the same thing with him he pulled with her. And they both knew it. Max knew why they clashed so often-it was not only because they cared for each other so much, or because they were both unwilling to admit it, but also because they were so much alike. They were both stubborn as hell and had egos and senses of pride that were far to large for their own good.  
  
Whether Max had wanted it or not, their trip turned into a working vacation when she began to piece together Sage's puzzle. What had angered her more than anything though, was when her body betrayed her, making her unable to fight for, or at least beside, Logan as he tried to protect them both. The gunshots sent shock waves of fear through her heart, as she lay curled up under the blankets, feeling Sage's tiny hand rub her back lightly every so often to comfort her. The sound of the guns brought horrible memories to the surface of her mind-escaping from Manticore, running from Manticore, being chased by Manticore, Logan's gunshot that had paralyzed him. That was the reason she hated guns most of all. Because of what they did to him.  
  
When BD and his gang had retreated the first time, Logan's first priority was to get to Max and check on her. He knew her seizures were getting really bad, and that she was incapacitated. He hated seeing her like that-he hated seeing such a strong and vibrant woman reduced to a trembling ball of pain each time the seizures took hold of her. He sent Sage to the master bedroom to get the liquid Tryptophan Logan had brought for this very reason. When the boy had gone, Logan had rolled to the other side of the bed, to face Max. Her face was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and her eyes every so often rolled back into her head, frightening him. He reached out and smoothed her hair a little. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to keep her from shaking too violently.  
  
"How you doing?" he asked.  
  
"D-d-d-ducky," she replied, her voice so weak and pitiful. "B-b-b-bring 'em on-n-n-n." Then the sadness filled her eyes. "P-p-p-please b-b-b-be c-c-careful L-l-logan."  
  
He smiled for her, "I promise. I'm no superhero. But I'm gonna keep us all safe. I swear."  
  
"I kn-kn-kn-know," she replied, closing her eyes. "Stay safe."   
  
"Shhhh," Logan kissed her forehead. "Rest Max. You'll be safe. We all will." He didn't know how much he believed his own words, but he knew she needed to hear them. Moments later Sage returned and they injected the medicine into Max's bloodstream. Thankfully, the tremors stopped enough for her to rest. Sage helped him pull the covers up to her chin, and they set about booby-trapping the property.  
  
Logan didn't know what came over him; he killed four people. He knew it was in self-defense, but somehow, after the fact, that was little comfort to him. He wondered if he had become everything he fought against. All he knew was that when BD and company laid siege on the house, he had switched onto autopilot. All he knew was that he, Sage, and Max were being threatened and he had to protect them; protect her. Somewhere in his mind, he figured this would be a time for payback for all the times she had saved his life. But after he felt the knife sink into BD's side, all Logan felt was emptiness. Again.  
  
Sage helped him into the chair and they made their way to Max's room. Logan's heart dropped when he found her on the floor, coughing from the smoke inhalation. As he scooped her up into his lap, he knew she must have heard the gunshots and explosions and tried to get out of bed to help. To Logan's surprise, in Max's weakened state, she curled up in his arms, hugging him around the neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He felt her body shake and he hugged her back. Sage sat on the bed silently and watched. Eventually, Max's body stopped shaking almost entirely. But for some reason, they stayed like that, holding each other.   
  
Max knew nothing of what had gone on while she had been unconscious, but she knew that Logan had been successful in protecting them. After her seizures subsided, she slowly came back to full awareness. At first, she was embarrassed by the fact that she was curled up in Logan's arms. But then she felt him trembling and she held on tighter, hoping to soothe him as he had soothed her. After a time, she murmured, "Hey Sage, can you do me a favor? I'm kinda cold. Can you run down to the master bedroom and get me a blanket?"  
  
Sage smiled and walked past them, "I'm glad you're better Max. Thanks for saving us Logan." With that, the boy left the room.  
  
Max self consciously climbed off Logan's lap and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled his chair closer and she leaned forward, resting her hands on his knees. "So, Eyes Only," she said coyly, feeling his trembling subside. "You saved us, huh?"   
  
HE could barely smile.  
  
"I'm impressed," Max tried again, hoping he would smile. But to no avail. "Logan," she said gently. "What happened while I was out?"  
  
His eyes were filled with a great sadness and Max reached out, her palm cupping his stubble-covered jaw. He closed his eyes a little and nuzzled her hand.  
  
Just then, Sage came running in with a blanket, "Max! Logan! People are here form the town. They must have seen the explosions and came to help us."  
  
Sighing, Max and Logan broke apart. Max wrapped herself in the blanket and she and Sage followed Logan out to the front. She ruffled Sage's hair, "You did good kid." He smiled adoringly at her and she wrapped half the blanket around him as well, cocooning them together. As they sat on the porch in silence, Max used her enhanced hearing to subtly eavesdrop on Logan's conversation. He was very business like, very cool and at the same time passionate and devoted; his concern for the rest of the world was so apparent. Max found herself wondering exactly where in the hell it had come from. She knew mostly it was out of some heightened sense of guilt, but she wondered where his guilt came from. "What secrets do you keep inside, Logan?" she wondered.   
  
She heard Sage's aunt call his name. Looking at him, she saw the hurt and betrayal in the boy's eyes. "She loves you," Max told him. "You're pretty lucky to have someone who cares about you that much."  
  
Sage smiled, "So are you." And with that, he ran out of her life and back into his own. Slowly, still a bit shakily, Max walked over to Logan. She could see the pain in his eyes.  
  
"I've never killed anyone before." Logan was wracked with guilt. He kept telling himself he had just been protecting Max and Sage, and that he had rid the world of murderers and bigots, but somehow it was not a comfort to him. Two wrongs did not make a right. He looked up at Max and knew she understood how he felt. He could see the compassion in her big brown eyes and wondered how many times he had missed it before. He had a hard time dispelling the bitterness he felt towards his paraplegia. Many days he found himself latching on to Max, using her as his reason for getting out of bed every morning. She gave him more to look forward to than trying, sometimes in vein he felt, to save their misguided and decrepit world. He knew that his paraplegia was in a way a blessing; he knew Max wouldn't have come back if he hadn't been wounded. But he couldn't help but feel helpless, not in his fight to save the world, the one that she was fighting for him, but also in his fight to have a normal life, and a normal relationship with Max. She meant so much to him.  
  
All he had to do was keep his paralysis from getting in their way. Whether inhibiting them of its own volition or because he made it a problem, it was still there, a third party in their blossoming, confusing, and wonderful relationship. Looking up at her, Logan wanted Max to do nothing more than sit in his lap and hold him again. He needed her.  
  
And she knew it. Max wished she could hold him and make his pain, all of his pain, go away, but she couldn't. All she could was make him smile. "It's good to know that when the superhero's otherwise occupied, the sidekick can save the day." She gave him an encouraging, smart-ass smile, hoping her words wouldn't backfire. She bit her lip.  
  
Logan found himself grinning. "Thank you Max," he thought.  
  
Their ride back to Seattle was quiet. The truck driving was luckily not of an amiably chatty nature, giving Max and Logan time to think. After a time, they found themselves enjoying each other's company, even in the silence. Glancing at the clock, Max noticed it was nearly two in the morning. She looked over at Logan and found his head nodding slightly as he dosed, weakly trying to stay awake. Smiling, Max unwrapped the blanket from around her slender frame and spread it across the two of them. Logan looked over at her and smiled tiredly. She patted his knee, wondering if he could feel it, and laid her head on his shoulder. Her seizures had left her greatly fatigued and she was fighting sleep herself. Logan unconsciously wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her to him, resting his chin atop her head.  
  
And they both dosed, sleeping of their vacation, returning to their normal, sometimes dark and dreary lives. But they were each other's light, each other's salvation, whether or not they realized it.  
  
As the truck lumbered back towards the Seattle perimeter check point, Max and Logan shared a peaceful dream.  
___________________________________________________________________________________  
  
~So Much~  
  
He wants to  
I want too much  
He says he's taking his time  
When I hold him  
And he holds back  
It hurts me that I don't mind  
  
Chorus:  
He has only so much  
He can give up for me  
And I have only so much  
And that's not enough but  
Everything is good  
Everything is fine for now  
La da da la da la da da  
  
She don't cry  
I don't cry  
The past won't let us let go  
When she holds me  
And I hold back  
If she minds I'll never know  
  
I have only so much  
I can give up for her  
And she gives only so much  
And that's not enough but  
Everything's good  
Everything's fine  
  
For now  
For now  
  
We have only so much  
We can give up for love  
And we give only so much  
And that's not enough but  
Everything is good  
Everything is fine  
For now   
  
  



	5. Interlude-Dreaming...I Was Only Dreaming

Author's Note: Okay kids; our favorite show was in reruns last week, and is preempted this week. But never fear, Queen Gwen is here! Here's a little interlude for ya, set right after my last story. Enjoy! As always, not all songs and characters are mine. I do not own em, never will, only borrow em for my own writing purposes and for the pleasure of others. Thanks to LadyCallie for beta-ing this. :)  
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Max felt warm. She smiled.   
  
As she emerged into wakefulness, Max took in the sensations around her. A warm blanket covered her body, which was nearly bare except for a flimsy tank top and a pair of loose boxer shorts. She could hear a crackling fire and smell the fragrant wood as it burned. Dimly, she wondered where she was; but for some reason, the unfamiliarity of her location did not alarm her. Languorously, Max stretched her long, smooth legs and felt them brush up against warm flesh. Startled, Max's eyes flew open and she discovered that she was not alone in the unfamiliar bed. Logan was next to her. He was on his side, pressed against her, one arm under her neck, the other across her exposed belly.   
  
Max's initial urge was bolt out of bed, but she denied it. She liked watching Logan sleep. He looked peaceful. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his constant five o'clock shadow looked a bit fuller. His long lashed eyes fluttered slightly in sleep, and his mouth curved up in a small smile. Max wondered what he was dreaming about. She turned slowly, as not to wake him, and positioned herself on her side, facing him. She could feel his warm breath on her face and she smiled.   
  
Mischievously, Max reached out and traced the lines of his jaw. She ran her fingertips lightly over his mouth, feeling the softness of his lips. She remembered that softness from their kiss, outside the cabin, when she and Zack had been on the run. How she had wished Logan wanted to come with her. Then, Max realized that's where they were. His family cabin. Their intended vacation destination. Chuckling, realizing somewhere that this was another of their shared dreams, Max drew in air and blew it gently onto Logan's face.   
  
She giggled when his eyes twitched and his mouth scrunched up in confusion. Sighing in his sleep, Logan pulled Max closer to him, cradling her to his chest. She laid her head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. Thump thump. Thump thump. It was a nice sound. Calming, soothing. She traced patterns lightly across his skin, running her fingers up his chest and neck. As much as she enjoyed watching him sleep, Max did not want Logan to sleep their dream away.   
  
"Logan," she whispered, her mouth close to his ear. "Wake up Logan."   
  
Max's breath tickled Logan skin and he thought about the dream he was having. It was one of the most realistic he had ever had. He could practically feel Max in his arms, her fingers teasing the skin on his chest. He could practically hear her voice, music in his ear. Moaning slightly, Logan inhaled deeply and smelt the wood in the fire, and the scent of Max's hair.   
  
Max?!   
  
Gasping, Logan's eyes flew open, and were greeted by the sight of Max. In shock, Logan bolted out of bed, standing, in awe, staring at her and she lay in the bed he had just been in, propped up on one elbow, eyes dancing, lips smiling. "What the-?" he began.   
  
"Logan," Max said, sliding across the bed so that she was on the side he had just been on. "Look. You're standing."   
  
Looking down in disbelief, Logan saw that indeed he was standing. What in hell was going on? The last thing he remembered he and Max had been in the tow truck coming back from Cape Haven. Now, they were in his family cabin, and he once again had full use of his legs. Max was lying in her pajamas on the pullout sleep sofa in the living room, stretched across the spot he had moments before shared with her. Completely overwhelmed, Logan sank to the bed beside Max. She wrapped her body around his sitting form, burrowing her head underneath his right arm. She tickled the skin on his thighs and giggled, "Good morning to you too."   
  
He released the breath he didn't know he had been holding and chuckled. "Where are we?" he asked.   
  
Max looked around nonchalantly, "As far as I can tell, we're at the cabin."   
  
He rolled his eyes, "I know that Max. What I meant was, how in hell did we get here?"   
  
"Well," she began, sitting beside him. "I figure we're dreaming."  
  
"Is this your dream or mine?" Logan asked, a sense of déjà vu washing over him.   
  
Max shrugged, "Beats the hell out of me. All I know is that we're here, you can walk, and, if my hunch is correct." She bounded out of bed and scampered across the room, rummaging through the pantry cabinets. She yelped in delight when she discovered her quarry and spun to show him. In her hands, she held a bag of marshmallows, a package of chocolate bars, and a box of graham crackers. "Everything we need to make some kick ass s'mores."  
  
Logan smiled and he rose out of bed. Even if this was a dream, he was going to enjoy every moment of it. "Well then," he said, walking towards her, noticing she was wearing a pair of his shorts. *That's definitely my part of the dream* he thought, bemused. "What do you want to do first?"   
  
Her eyes sparkled, "Well, if I remember correctly, you promised me a hike."   
  
He nodded, "Alright. How about some breakfast first?" He began burrowing around inside the refrigerator. Pulling out some eggs, cheese, cream, some spices, and various other ingredients, he asked, "How about eggs benedict?"   
  
Max grinned, "Sounds nice. I'm gonna take a shower while you whip up another Logan Cale culinary miracle."   
  
Logan nodded and set to work making their food. "Hey Max," he called over his shoulder.   
  
She spun on her heel.   
  
"Let me know if you need any help washing your back."   
  
He couldn't believe he'd just said that. But before he could mentally kick himself, he saw Max smile before disappearing into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later she emerged, hair damply hanging around her shoulders, barefoot, dressed in slim fitting jeans and a black long sleeved T-shirt that hugged her curves a little too well. She snuck up behind him as he cooked and grabbed him around his bare waist. She tickled his stomach and he spun around, laughing. Before she knew what was happening, Logan had her pinned against the counter, his body trapping hers. He stared deeply into her eyes, his face so close to her own. Max found herself holding her breath.   
  
Then, Logan grinned devilishly and murmured huskily, "Wanna eat breakfast?"   
  
Max nodded, her heart pounding in her chest, "Uh-huh."   
  
Logan stepped out of her way and indicated that she seat herself at the table. He brought the food to her and they ate in a comfortable silence. When they had finished, Logan cleared the table and said, "Just let me go change." Then he paused, "Where did you get the clothes?"   
  
She shrugged, "It's the dreamscape. You just think about what you want to wear and boom, there they are." To demonstrate, Max thought herself up a pair of wool socks, hiking boots, and a jacket.  
  
Logan nodded and headed for the bedroom, wondering in amusement if the boxers she had been wearing were of her own creation. Five minutes later he emerged, dressed in jeans, boots, a button down shirt and dark colored turtleneck. In his hands was a backpack. Max rose off the couch, which she had remade, and asked, "What's in there?" Smiling, Logan pulled out a map, two bottles of water, a few snacks, two towels, and two bathing suits, one for him and one for her. Max arched an eyebrow.   
  
He chuckled, "There are hot springs up in mountain. I figured we could take a dip."   
  
Suspiciously, Max snatched the suit from his hands. She tried to ignore the shier that ran through her as their fingers brushed. Examining the suit, she discovered that it was in fact her size.   
  
"Guess you've had time to get familiar with my measurements, huh?" she asked ruefully.   
  
*Not as familiar as I'd like to* he thought, and merely shrugged in response.   
  
Max suppressed a chuckle. She had to give him credit. At least the thing was one piece, black, and sleek; she wondered if Logan was trying to drive himself crazy. She knew the way he looked at her. She even suspected what he felt. She knew what she felt. When she had been in his arms, she had felt so safe. And apparently, he liked the feeling of having her in his arms. She thought it felt natural to him, considering how he had acted when she was in his arms. Handing the suit back to Logan, Max watched as he stuffed it in the backpack. Then, he held out his hand. With a smile, she took it, and they were on their way out the door.   
  
An hour later, they were nearing the springs. Max was leaps and bounds ahead of Logan, even though she had no idea where she was going. He smiled as he leaned against a boulder, watching the muscles in her body as she climbed. For most of the hike, she had stayed by his side. For some of the way, they had even held hands. But as they neared the springs, Logan saw a child-like excitement and exuberance overwhelm Max as she raced ahead of him. Now, however, she had stopped, kindly waiting for him. As he reached her, slightly out of breath, Logan remarked, "This may be a dream where I have use of my legs Max, but you're still the superhero."  
  
She rewarded him with a smile and grabbed her hand, "Come on, sidekick, there's a spring waiting for us." Laughing like children, they raced toward the springs, leaping over rocks and fallen tree limbs, breathing in the fresh country air. It was different in the mountains. Here they could forget that the Pulse ever happened. Here they could forget that she worked a dead end job for a type A asshole and he was confined to a wheelchair and felt cursed by his birth. Here they could forget that a man named Lydecker was constantly on Max's tail and a bullet from a hired gun was constantly in Logan's spine.   
  
When they reached the springs, Max gasped, "Logan, it's beautiful!"   
  
"You're not so bad yourself," he replied without thinking. Then, seeing her amused look of shock, he scrambled to cover. "I may have embellished its beauty."   
  
She grinned and took the pack from him, "Dreamscape poetic license." Handing him his suit, she pointed, "There's some nice trees. Go change and meet me in there."   
  
He mock-saluted, "Yes ma'am."   
  
Five minutes later Logan dashed out from behind his changing trees, his clothing in hand. The air was frigid and sent gooseflesh rippling across his skin. Looking to the springs, he saw Max already submerged. Her hair was wet and it clung to her scalp. Her skin was rosy from the heat and moisture beaded on her exposed flesh. She grinned at him, "Come on in, the water's fine." Smiling, Logan dropped his clothes next to hers and jumped in the water, splashing her. Max shrieked slightly and splashed him back when he came up from under the water. They proceeded the water fight for several minutes, laughing and yelling, drenching each other, before the match became significantly more physical. They began to pounce on each other, as if trying to sink the other. Logan remembered playing games like this with his cousins when they were children. But he realized that the game he was playing with Max had far higher stakes. They were playing for keeps, not for laughs. Eventually, the realization dawned on Max as well and she stopped laughing. They stared at each other, their arms firmly wrapped around each other's waists, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Logan tenderly brushed some hair out of Max's face.   
  
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice breathy.   
  
He smiled, "No problem." The tension was too great and Logan broke contact, moving to the other side of the spring. He sat on a rather large rock near the edge and held his hand out to her. "Come here." When she crossed her arms and arched a brow he sighed. "I'm not gonna bite you, I promise. Now come here. I want to do something for you."   
  
There was something in Logan's voice that made Max melt. Slowly, she crossed the pool. Logan motioned her to sit on the rock between his legs. Taking a deep breath, Max did as he asked. Her body stiffened when she felt him place his large hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing?" she asked.   
  
"Relax," he murmured in her ear, his breath tingling against her skin. "You've been through a lot in the last couple of days."   
  
"So have you," she interjected.   
  
He nodded, "Even still, this is my treat to you. It will help you de-stress."   
  
She smiled, "I like the sound of that. Work away, Mr. Cale."   
  
He smiled at her grant of permission and began working the kinks and knots out of her skin. He began at the small of her back, holding her hips and side and working his thumbs expertly at the base of her spin. Slowly, he started to move his way up he back along her spine, threading his fingers to grab her flesh and massage her back. Every so often, his fingers would find rather large knots and he would press gently, until he felt the fibrous wad give in. At some point during the massage, Max surrendered, her head lulling back against his chest. Ever so often, a soft groan would escape her lips as his hands found a particular area of stress and tension. Logan's fingers came to the base of her neck and he gently pushed her head forward, bowing it, so he could work on her neck. The feel of his fingers on that sensitive skin nearly made her shudder. Finally, Logan took one of her hands in his and began massaging the palm, making small circular movements with his fingers. When he finished, he took her fingers and massaged them as well. Then he moved to the other hand and repeated his actions.   
  
Max sighed when she felt the massage end. She felt his fingers brush lightly up and down her arms, bringing the warm water up over her cooling skin. "Thanks," she whispered. "That was great."   
  
"Anytime." His voice was deep and husky.   
  
After a time, she asked, "Well, what do you want to do now?"   
  
*If you only knew* he thought. "That's kind of a loaded question, don't you think?"  
  
She smiled and faced him, instantly missing the contact with his body. "I meant about the hike."   
  
"Oh," he chuckled. "Well," he began, looking around. "By where the sun is, I'd day the dreamtime is about three. It's only about another hour to the summit. Once we get there, it should only take us two hours to get back. As long as we're back to the cabin before sundown, we'll be all set."   
  
Her eyes sparkled, "You forget. I have night vision."   
  
"But I don't," he retorted.   
  
A slightly frown marred her face, "But our clothes and towels are over there, out there, where it's a bit cold, and we're in here, where it's so h-er, not cold." Max slightly blushed, hoping he wouldn't be able to tell against the flush of the warm water.   
  
Logan could have sworn he saw her blush. He reached out and grabbed a rather sizeable branch that was lying on the ground. He used it to fetch their towels. Shaking the leaves from them, he handed one to her, being careful not to get it in the water. After she had wrapped it around herself, he did the same with his own. Stepping out of the water, he pulled her out after him, then briskly rubbed her arms. "Better?" he asked.   
  
"Yeah," she said. She averted her gaze, "Now, let's get dressed and continue this hike."   
  
They reached the summit around four thirty and shared the snacks and water. As they made their way back down the mountain, they chatted idylly or not at all, because each was trying to forget that eventually this dream would end and they would have to go back to the real world. By the time they reached the cabin, the sunset was nearly complete. Logan opened the door to the cabin, but Max stayed on the porch. "Aren't you coming inside?" he asked.   
  
She shook her head. "I want to watch the sun set the rest of the way," she said quietly, as if not to disturb the sun.   
  
He stood behind her, placing his hands lightly on her hips, "Mind if I join you?"   
  
Max shook her head, relishing the feel on his hands on her body. She knew they had to be dreaming, because she never felt this safe in the real world. She never allowed herself to be this vulnerable, not even with Logan. Here, standing with him on the dream-porch at the dream-cabin watching the dream-sunset, she almost felt like a remotely normal girl. Max closed her eyes and rested her head against Logan's chest, feeling his heartbeat. It sounded like music.   
  
Logan rested his chin on top of Max's head, pleasantly surprised that she hadn't stiffened up or tried to bolt when he touched her. He released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and watched the sunset with her. He didn't want to go back. He loved that here they could be so poem with each other, and display their feelings so much more readily. He loved that here he could stand, walk, hold her to his chest, feel the full weight of her body against his. He tightened his hold on her slightly and felt her body move rhythmically as she breathed in the fresh dream-mountain air.   
  
After the sun set, the night brought cool air into the valley. Although they had remained on the porch after the sun had gone down, Logan felt Max shiver slightly as the cooler breezes brushed over her. He suppressed a shiver himself and lightly rubbed her arms to warm her. Nevertheless, neither of them made any protests of standing together out in the cold. That is, until a strange noise filled the air. Max and Logan both stood a little straighter, trying to figure out where the noise had come form. They heard it again and Logan started chuckling. Max frowned and turned to look at him. Giggling, he pointed to her stomach.   
  
"I think you're trying to tell me to make dinner," he said, his eyes shining.   
  
She grinned in returned, "Then cook away, Chef Cale." Max followed him into the house and removed her jacket and boots. She tossed the damp bathing suits and towels into a bin by the fireplace and thought them up a roaring fire. Curling up on the sofa, tucking her toes underneath her body, Max watched as Logan prepared them a dinner of sliced marinated steak, Caesar salad, rice pilaf, and red wine. He brought her the meal so that they could eat it in front of the fire and sat next to her on the couch. They ate in relative silence, again, not wanting to spoil the time they were spending with each other by voicing their concerns and displeasure of the inevitable-returning to the real world.   
  
When they'd finished dinner, Max cleared the dishes while Logan cleaned up the pans and bowls and put the ingredients away. They swapped small smiles and idyll conversation. Logan told her about family vacations he had spent at the cabin when he was younger. He told her about the time he and Bennett had "borrowed" Jonas and Margo's boat to go fishing on the lake, without taking notice of the level of fuel. They had run out and were stranded on the lake for six hours before someone was able to get a refuel boat to them. Both Logan and Bennett had been grounded for weeks after that.   
  
Max smiled, trying not to be envious of his happy childhood stories. The only childhood memories she had were of brutal training, physical and emotional torture, horrific seizures, and beatings at the hand of her foster father after the escape. She didn't have the summer vacation memories or the home movies or the (arguably) loving family the way Logan did.   
  
He noticed her thousand year stare and took her hand, "Hey. Where'd you go?"   
  
Max smiled half-heartedly and jumped off the counter she had been sitting on. Logan followed her into the living room and they sat on the couch once more. She shrugged, "Just feeling a bit of the green-eyed monster that I didn't have the happy childhood. Don't worry. I was having a moment. I've made my peace with it. No big dealio."   
  
But Logan could tell by the look in her big eyes that it was 'a big dealio'. "Max," he said gently, lightly touching her cheek with his fingertips. He threaded his hands into her thick hair and moved closer to her. "You don't have to be strong with me. You don't have to pretend."   
  
She nodded, fighting the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I know Logan. But what can I say? I'm a creature of habit."   
  
"Some habits can be broken," he said tenderly, forcing her to look into his eyes. Slowly, he rested his forehead against hers and held his arms open, hoping she would accept his invitation. Gingerly, Max moved into his arms, allowing herself to be protected, for once, instead of protecting or running or hiding. Logan smoothed her hair and held her, and Max let him.   
  
Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him, "Thank you Logan." He wanted to thank her, for dropping her guard, for showing how much she trusted him.   
  
"Don't mention it," he replied. Just then, a pain shot through his back and he winced.   
  
"What's wrong?" she asked, slightly alarmed. Logan groaned and changed his sitting position. He tried to avoid her eyes. The stiffness in his back was a reminder that their dreamtime was quickly ending. "Nothing," he said quickly. But he knew Max wasn't buying it, and he felt somewhat hypocritical hiding from her after telling her not to hide from him. "I guess," he said slowly. "My body didn't like the way I was sitting."  
  
Max jumped off the couch and asked him to get off. Rather quickly, she converted the couch back into a bed and motioned him to lie down on it. Logan arched a brow, "Max, what are you doing?"   
  
She grinned devilishly, "Take off your shirt."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Relax, Logan. It's my turn to return the massage favor." Her voice was very matter-of-fact. Slowly, Logan did as she had asked, removing his glasses and placing them on an end table. He draped his shirt over the arm of the couch and lay down on his stomach. Turning his head to one side, Logan felt Max kneel next to him as she placed slender hands on his shoulders. "Take deep breaths, Logan," she instructed. She remembered reading in one of Kendra's magazines that guys tended to get excited, and not relaxed, by massages. Deep breathing supposedly calmed them to the female touch. Slowly, Max worked the tired flesh of Logan's shoulders and neck. She used her thumbs and fingers to work out the tension before slowly working her way down his back. She noted the musculature, and tautness and firmness of his back muscles, and knew all those months in a wheel chair had greatly improved his upper body strength. Finally, Max's hands found their way to his lower back, where most of his pain was. It was also where his initial injury had been.   
  
A soft groan passed his lips as Logan felt Max's hands touch the point on his spine where he had been injured. Suddenly, he felt her stop and he turned his head to look at her.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "Did I hurt you?"   
  
"No," he said, smiling gently. "You just found where most of my pain is back in the real world, and when you touched it, it didn't hurt as much."   
  
Max's eyes sparkled. "Well, then, screw the blood transfusions. Maybe I should do this for you when we get back."   
  
"Maybe," Logan replied, before turning his head again and letting her finish the massage.   
  
"Logan," Max said in a small voice as she neared the end of the back rub.   
  
"Yes Max?" he replied, remaining on his stomach, even though he felt her come to the end of the massage. Despite the fact they were no longer ministering to him, her hands remained on the small of his back, and he felt the warmth of her skin against his.   
  
"I don't want to go back," she said quietly.   
  
Immediately, Logan sat up and knelt beside her. He touched her face and looked into her eyes, "I don't either Max, but-"   
  
"I know," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "We have to. You have widows and stray dogs to save. And I've got packages to deliver and army bastards to keep off my tail."   
  
"Blah blah woof woof," he said wryly, hoping it would make her laugh. He felt her chuckle bitterly and sighed. "Max," Logan said, tipping her chin with his forefinger. "Things don't have to change when we go back."   
  
Sighing, Max sat back away from him, pulling her knees to her chest, "Yes they do, Logan. I may have to run at any time, and you can't come with me because you have a country to try to save. We don't know how close Lydecker is to finding me, and I can't risk endangering your life, or anyone else's. It's pretty dangerous knowing me, Logan." Her voice was filled with sadness.   
  
Logan crawled closer to her and put his arm around her, "Max, even though I am going to have to go back to a world that's imperfect and hurtful where I'm in a wheelchair, I would go without reservation as long as I knew you were going to be there, safe. It's my choice to know you, to be friends with you. I don't want you to feel like you're a burden." He thought for a moment. "If anything, Max, *I* am the burden in this relationship."   
  
"Stop!" she said, tears filling her eyes. "Don't ever say that. Not ever!"   
  
Logan sighed and took her hand. "Okay Max, I'm sorry. I won't say it again." He stopped. "Looks like the real world's starting to intrude on us again huh?"   
  
Max nodded. "Logan, when we get back, promise me you're gonna be okay. If I have to run, promise me you'll be okay." *Promise me you'll come with me* her mind yearned to add, but she would not let it.   
  
He smiled for her sake, "I promise Max. But what's all this about having to run? Did something happen that you haven't told me about?"   
  
Max hung her head slightly, "No Logan. Just that thing with Jace a few weeks ago. But Lydecker's not going to stop. Something big is coming Logan, I can feel it." The fear in her voice was apparent and so thick it frightened him.   
  
"Whatever it is," he said. "I'll be there for you. I'll help you anyway I can." His promise was sincere, and she could see the sincerity in his eyes. Their faces were mere inches apart and Max yearned to move the few extra centimeters and kiss him. Even if they were dreaming, it would still be a kiss. A kiss with Logan.   
  
But then a knock was heard on the door. Max and Logan sighed in unison and reluctantly broke apart. The real world was coming to get them. Together, they got off the bed and made it back into a normal couch. Within thought, they extinguished the fire, made all the clothes and backpacks, and thought up dream things disappear. Looking at each other, they were back in the clothes they had worn to Cape Haven. Only, Logan was still standing. He looked down at his legs and knew that his time with them was ending. Max offered him a supportive smile and held out her hand. Gratefully, he took it and they walked, hand in hand, toward the door. Mustering up all their resolve, Logan reached out with his other hand, and pulled it open...  
  
  
..."Mr. Cale!"   
  
"Mr. Cale!"   
  
"Miss?"   
  
"Mr. Cale, we're here." The voice of the truck driver woke Max and Logan from their slumber. Looking around, they realized they were back in Seattle. It was nearly dawn, and the tow truck driver was looking expectantly at them. Shaking the kinks out of their neck, Max and Logan sat up. Logan handed the driver his credit card while Max jumped out of the truck, finding her feet still a bit unsteady, and went to the back of the truck to get Logan's wheelchair. It hurt her to get it for him, not because she was physically in pain, but because of what they had just experienced. She waited for Logan to make arrangements for his shot up Aztec with the tow truck driver. Then she helped him out of the cab and into the chair. Silently, they headed for the entrance to his building. At the door, they stopped.   
  
Max looked down at Logan, "I should probably be getting home. Cindy probably wants to know all about my vacation."   
  
"Why don't you come up," Logan said quietly. "You've still got another day left in your vacation from Jam Pony."   
  
Sadly, Max shook her head, "Nah, you need your rest. So do I, actually. I'm still not feeling a hundred percent."   
  
"You going to be okay getting home?" he asked with concern. "Wait a few hours and I can have Bling take you."   
  
"Logan," Max said. "I'll be fine, I promise."   
  
He sighed, "Okay Max. See you later then?"   
  
She nodded, "See you later."   
  
They began to move away from each other, Max walking up the street toward where she had stashed her bike, Logan wheeling toward the handicapped ramp that would get him into Foggle Towers. Max turned on her heel and watched him. "Hey Logan!" she called.   
  
He turned around and looked at her expectantly.   
  
"Thanks for a great vacation. I had a lot of fun." The meaning behind her words was obvious.   
  
"So did I," he replied with a small, mischievous smile.   
  
Max rolled her eyes, "Good night Logan." She turned a corner and moments later went roaring past him on her bike. She waved fleetingly before disappearing around another corner. He listened until he could not longer hear the motorcycle.   
  
"Good morning Max," Logan said quietly, watching as a new day dawned on Seattle.  
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Well, will that tide you all over until we get a new episode next week? Woo-hoo! I'm on vacation as of now, so expect more frequently updated stories. We're talking another "Sight Unseen" chapter for the upcoming DA episode "Diamond's Back", or whatever they ended up calling it. We're also talking another chapter to "The Air That I Breathe", cuz I know ya'll want to know what the hell Lydecker was doing there. I'm also debating whether or not to write some other TV fics that are non DA...hey, sorry guys, but I didn't start as a DA writer....it's just become by latest Muse. May the Muse never be cancelled, only, at worst, put into summer reruns.  



	6. Open Souls

Author's Notes: This Chapter is going to be a little out of character for me. I am still waiting on the transcripts from "Shorties In Love" so I can write you guys a good story, but I know how restless you all are. Hence, here are some poems that could be in Logan's diary. Some of them could be Max's too. Some are songs I wrote. I read in TV Guide MW writes songs to JA, so I figured, why couldn't Logan write songs for Max. He said they weren't poetry right? Why if he wrote lyrics? Hope you all like them. BTW, please don't copy these without my permission. They are copyrighted to be. But, anyone who does have a transcript of SIL, please please please send it my way. Thanks. PS-To my beta girls, Callie and Evil Twin: I didn't send this to you to beta because these are my poems; they have already been beta'd by my poetry friends.  
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**Promises By Logan Cale***  
  
I promise never to ask you  
To be more than you are  
I promise not to let bad things  
Get carried too far  
I promise to always be there  
Where ever we are  
I promise to support you  
When things get too hard  
  
I promise never to hide things  
Or keep things from you  
I promise to be honest  
About what I'm going through  
I promise never to retreat  
Inside my cocoon  
If you promise you will promise  
These things to me too  
  
  
**Undeniable by Logan Cale**  
  
I never knew where my heart was  
Until I gave it away  
And I let my emotions win  
It was then I lost my way  
It was then I was afraid  
  
There will be some stress when you arrive  
There will be many eyes rolled  
And you will find that acceptance  
Might be harder than stone  
The tepid air might be cold  
  
And I might lose all my nerve, all control  
'Cause I know that these feelings  
Are undeniable  
Undeniable  
  
I could cry you an ocean  
'Cause with you I don't feel alone  
And I've never been in love  
I've been waiting for the one  
Now look see what I've become  
  
'Cause I might lose all my nerve, all control  
And I know that these feelings  
Are undeniable  
Undeniable  
  
  
**Un-- By Logan Cale**  
  
Unmistakeable-  
The word I use to describe  
My feelings for you   
  
Understanding-  
And compassion I feel  
For all you've been through   
  
Unbreakable-  
The state of this bond  
That we've made from the start   
  
Undeniable-  
Is the residence you have taken  
Inside my heart  
  
  
**Max's attempt at Lyrics, also known as IN YOUR EYES***  
  
Who do you think you are  
To come into my life  
And to make me feel this way  
Re-evaluate everything  
I thought I knew who I was  
You made me realize how little  
I understood about life  
And the world and myself  
  
I look to the stars for answers  
For peace I look to the night sky  
I look to the moon for solace  
And all I know is when I'm with you  
I see how much we are alike  
Your spirit is in me  
Can you feel me in your soul  
And its really no surprise  
I see it reflecting in your eyes  
  
(In your eyes)  
I can see hope for my future  
(In your eyes)  
I see forgiveness for my past  
(In your eyes)  
I see the words that you can't say  
No matter how you try  
But I can see them  
In your eyes  
  
I know that we tried to hide it  
And fight the feelings that we had  
I didn't want to see the truth  
Just could not believe you wanted me  
Our feelings only grew stronger  
I'm always on your mind  
It's hard for us to be apart  
It's too strong to deny  
I can see it shining in your eyes  
  
Even though you try to hide  
Your eyes are so clear  
Windows that show me your soul  
And lead me straight to your core  
I could get lost inside your true self  
You find a way to tell me what you can't say  
Any time your eyes meet mine in trust   
I know  
  
(In your eyes)  
I can see hope for my future  
(In your eyes)  
I see forgiveness for my past  
(In your eyes)  
I see the words that you can't say  
No matter how you try  
But I can see them  
In your eyes  
  
I could lose myself in you  
Anytime you ask me to  
It's really no surprise  
That I found what I need  
In your eyes  
  
  
**Helpless by Anonymous**   
  
I'm sorry  
I'm sorry I don't know how  
To give you what you need  
I don't know how to help you  
To find your peace  
  
Though I want more than anything  
To make it all okay  
  
To take you in my arms  
And embrace away your pain  
  
To brush my lips against your mouth  
And take your frustration away  
  
To give you the rest you need  
The solace you seek  
And the happiness you deserve  
  
You tell me not to worry  
That you always are okay  
That it's useless to fret  
That it's just another day  
  
But I'm still going to worry  
Deep within my heart  
Because you'll forever remain with me  
You're always in my thoughts  
  
  
**Are You Ready by Anonymous**  
  
I do not have the words  
I think you need to hear  
And the things that I could tell you-  
I wonder, are you ready?  
Or would you be put off but the things I could say?  
Could the things that I would speak if send you away?  
  
I am thinking of the words  
I know you need to hear  
The things I want to tell you-  
I wonder, are you ready?  
Would the words you need put an end to your strife?  
Could the things that I would speak of give you peace in your life?  
  
I am tasting the words   
I feel you have to hear  
And the things that I might tell you-  
I think you are ready  
Can the words in my mouth calm the fears in your heart?  
Will the sound of my voice bring the solace you want?  
  
I am speaking the words  
I think we have to hear  
Listen to the things I am saying:  
I know we are ready  
We can find out what we need in what we have here  
Whatever we are missing we will find my dear  
  
All our fears will be calmed  
Nothing is that bad  
Let it never be said  
We never gave all we had  
  
  
**By Your Light by Logan Cale and Max Guerva** (A/N: Sometimes it's either one's POV, sometimes it's both)  
  
The curtain rustles,  
With wind it tussles  
You enter, beauty;  
You've done you're duty.  
"I'm here,"  
You whisper in my ear.  
  
I am your nymph,  
Your imp;  
I am your Muse,  
Your fuse.  
  
I light  
Your spark as you light  
Mine,  
And as I feel our fingers entwine  
I close my eyes  
And think of the time  
Before  
  
You came to me  
And got inside my soul  
You said the beauty  
Of my soul made you weep,  
And I wept as I saw that beauty  
Reflected in your eyes-  
Deep pools of magic and mayhem.  
  
You steal my breath  
And bend my mind.  
I've made you mine,  
Just so you know.  
  
Lover, Friend, Stranger, Man-  
Take my hand;  
Take me to your Promised Land.  
  
Tell me to close my eyes,  
"It's a surprise,"  
And I'll believe.  
You know my needs  
As I know yours;  
  
I'm learning your stories,  
And loving your glory.  
You'll be gone in the morning,  
But I'm never far from your mind  
Because I'm  
Following close behind.  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
Well? You guys aren't gonna flame me right? Ya'll still love good ol' Queen gwen, right? :-)  



	7. One Step Forward

Author's Note: Sorry this story is coming so late. My gosh darned modem bit the dust and the repairman did not come until this Wednesday afternoon. Grrr. Anywho, that's why this has taken so long. As always, none of it's mine, I borrow it all, and put my own spin on it, yada yada yada. Thanks to by incredible betas, Callie and Evil Twin. You guys make these stories printable and free of typos. Thank you.  
____________________________________________________________________________________  
  
~Logan's POV~  
  
I've known her for six months and she never ceases to surprise me. This time, she literally *did* surprise me. I paged her, but hadn't counted on her arriving so quickly. I don't know why. I know how fast she is. She always responds to my pages ASAP, unless she's detained by Normal or the latest Manticore bad guy du jour. Still, after I paged her, my Muse paid me a visit. Or maybe I knew that my Muse was on her way to pay me a visit, in the form of the ever lovely and still mysterious Max. Either way, I was writing when she arrived.   
  
I have to admit, I was embarrassed when she caught me. I loved my father, but he was a Cale through and through. Writing would be considered weak. He'd not been thrilled with my choice of careers as it was; if he'd known I was also a closet poet, he might have died long before...he died. Some ghosts need to remain in the attic. I snatched the leather bound manuscript from her excited hands, enjoying the playful banter and cat and mouse game we had started. But I also knew it was time to get down to business. Not that Max was going to make it easy. Not only was she completely disregarding everything I was trying to tell her by telling me about her lesbian friends, but she was also leaning on my desk, torturing me with the view afforded by her neckline. I swear, she's trying to kill me.  
  
I should have known she was listening though. She always does. "I can parallel process and multi-task like there's no tomorrow," she'd said playfully, obviously enjoying the repartee herself. I wonder how well she would process the information I could tell her; how I really feel. Wouldn't that send her into shock? I knew the answer to my own question. It would freak her out and send her running. And I couldn't handle that. So until we're both ready to give voice to the way we feel, I have to be content with the state of my relationship with Max. It's damn hard to be content though when the woman I'm in love with was leaning on my desk, her denim jacket open enough to reveal the parts of her not sufficiently covered by the blue shirt she wore underneath.  
  
I watched her snatch up the plans, and heard her ask me if I'd mind if her fingers got extra sticky during this mission. I told her just to get the disks and that I didn't want to know what else she did. But I was really too busy staring at her, memorizing the lines of her face, the way she looks when she'd flirting with me, the way her eyes twinkle when she knows she's got me right where she wants me, because I know that at any minute, she could be forced to run and leave me here, without her. Ever since my prevented self-pitying attempt at suicide, I've been trying to savor every moment I have with her.  
  
"Cool," she said, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew I really didn't mind. We have this amazing unspoken dialogue, something that just kind of developed on its own. It's like we know what each other is thinking, even if we won't admit it.  
  
I watched her start to leave and felt the pang I feel every time she leaves. Some part of my mind wonders if this is the last time. Desperately, before I can really consider what I'm doing, I blurt out, "So they were really making out, huh?" I still can't believe I said that, but I did, and I had to deal with the consequences.  
  
Max turned and eyed me suspiciously. I couldn't tell if she was going to laugh at me or hit me for having such a momentary case of testosterone poisoning. I keep trying to show her I'm not like other guys; I'm not chauvinistic. Kinda. "Yeah," she says, her voice thick with suspicion and a tiny bit of aggravation.  
  
"Hmmm," is all I could brilliantly respond before she left. I wonder if she knew what I was thinking then, not of Original Cindy and the new old on again girlfriend, but of she and I, making out. Were they visions of the future? Only time will tell. We're taking it one step at a time.  
  
~Max's POV~  
  
When I showed up at his penthouse after the fight down near the South Market, I was surprised to find him doing bicep curls, his brow covered in a sheen of sweat. I stood in the doorway briefly, watching him as he concentrated on his weight lifting, making his upper body strong. I could tell by the striations in muscle I could see through the skin that he had been doing it for a while. In some way I guess you could say he's trying to compensate, or maybe overcompensate, for the muscles he can't control in his lower body. We're going to get that fixed sooner or later. I don't care if he's in a wheelchair or towering over me, but I know how much despair it causes him to be confined to the wheelchair. I catch him, sometimes, when he doesn't know I'm looking, or doesn't know I'm there, looking sad, staring briefly at his uncooperative and unresponsive legs.  
  
Again, he didn't know I was standing her. I had no desire for him to accidentally drop the dumb bell and hurt himself, so I cleared my throat gently and waited for him acknowledge me. He looked up, the surprise and something I can only describe as gladness evident in his striking eyes, and invited me in, which was funny, because I had already invited myself in. Or maybe I had just taken his permanent invitation. He gave me a key to the place a long time ago, to keep me from having to break in every time I come over and he's preoccupied to open the door.  
  
We talked about my encounter and I handed him the somewhat antique looking gun I had grabbed off the goon who tried unsuccessfully, as most do, to kick my ass. He continued the bicep curls until I gave him a new toy to play with. Once I figured out that our shoptalk was done with for the most part, I was surprised to find myself not ready nor wanting to leave. In a move that kinda shocked me, I sat back to back to him. I figured out a while ago that I'm not afraid to be near him, to be close to him. I guess that's a huge step, on my part. I guess it means I trust him completely. I already knew that though. That's something else I figured out a long time ago. The first time I had a really bad bout of seizures since we had met. This was the first place I'd thought of coming to be safe until it was over.  
  
My move to be closer to him must have shocked Logan too, because the next thing I knew, he was telling me how much he worried about me. I thought it was kind and sweet. I know he worries about me. I can see it in his eyes every time I go out. I can see the relief in his eyes every time I come back. I know he worries. Still, I had to insert one of my Manticore dogmas, quipping, "Worry accomplishes nothing." Immediately I worried, ironically, that he would take that as a defense mechanism on my part, and I didn't want him to think I didn't appreciate the gesture. So I said quickly, barely missing a beat, "But it's good to know you think of me as more than your own personal cat burglar."  
  
He nudged me gently and I felt the warmth of his body brush against mine. I could smell his cologne, a light scent, nothing too heavy or overpower, and his own scent, the natural smell that was distinctly his. I would know that scent anywhere. "Much more," he said warmly, and I remember being surprised I didn't totally freak. In fact, I didn't freak at all. Instead, I continued the flirtatious banter we had established and asked if any of the poetry I hadn't caught him writing was about me. I watched in amusement as his ears grew red and he insisted that although he didn't write poetry, some of it was maybe about me. Maybe.  
  
"I can live on that for a couple of days," I said, hoping he would get the impression that I wouldn't completely freak if he ever tried to tell me more than that. Deep inside though, I felt kinda bad, because I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't freak if he was ever to admit to me the feelings I know we both have. I wonder how much that would scare me. I wonder if he'd still be here when I got over my fear of getting *that* close to someone. Because I know that when you say something out loud, it makes it real. I jumped off the table we had been sitting on and told him "Later." As I left the apartment, he rewarded me with one of his charming, coy, boyishly dashing glances, meeting my eyes and holding my gaze just so long, that one look conveying words we can't yet bring ourselves to say.  
  
~Logan's POV~  
  
Running the trace on the weapon Max had given me was my first priority when I got up the next morning. Even though I discovered it was not linked to Manticore, not knowing who had hired the Tacoma-based bounty hunters worried me enough to fear for Max's safety. Thankfully, she returned my page within a minute, and I was able to get her up to speed on what I'd discovered.  
  
I liked hearing her voice in the morning. It made me want to page her more often, just to talk to her. But I know we're not there yet. She'd get suspicious or maybe even annoyed if I kept getting her at work without any Eyes Only or quid pro quo excuse.  
  
I could hear the slight concern in her voice when I told her about the bounty hunters. "Maybe you should get out of town for a few days," I told her, knowing she probably wouldn't do it. Secretly, I was thankful. Even though I will probably set up her safe house the next time she has to run, I'm not ready for her to leave just yet. I smiled when she told me that she'd be all right, that she had to knock a safe over for a friend.  
  
It's good to know the girl I'm infatuated with is my own personal cat burglar. I wonder what I am to her. Am I just her meal ticket, her hot shower, her way of finding her sibs and stopping Manticore? Or am I more than that? Am I truly her friend, her ally, her refuge? I guess I'll find out eventually.  
  
~Max's POV~  
  
The first thing I did when I broke out of Synthedine-before I knew it was called that-was go to Logan's. It's the first thing I always do. It started just to report in, let the great and powerful Eyes Only know what was the what. But over time it has evolved into something we both need. He needs to see I'm okay and I need him, I guess, to pat my ego, to tell me I did a good job. I go because even though I razz him about it, I need him to fret and fuss and make every little cut and scrape a bigger deal than it is. It makes me feel wanted, and loved I guess. I bet a shrink would tell you it's because I never had a loving home environment as a child-I never had a mom or dad to kiss my scraped knees and make everything all better. So now I have Logan. Not that I want him to go kissing my knees or anything.   
  
Well, not yet.  
  
As usual, he worried. He tried to hide it and sound all business like, but I could hear it in his voice. Manticore designed us for stuff like that-being able to discern voice patterns. "I've been paging you all night," he said.   
  
Sheesh, you'd think the guy cared about me or something.  
Kidding. I know he does.  
  
As we went over the files, Logan reverted into total Eyes Only mode. His fingers began furiously typing away as he tapped into the Informant Net and showed me pictures of Satan, or whatever his real name was, and together we discovered his connection to Cindy's lickety boo. I like when stuff like that happens, when Logan and I figure stuff out together. It's like we're really connecting. He's not being Eyes Only, or displaying his Only Child Syndrome-at least, I think he's an only child; come to think of it, he knows more about my childhood than I know about his. We're going to have to change that-and I wasn't displaying signs of my Manticore-given thick headedness.   
  
Logan made some kind of off comment about me having a busy night. I wonder if he knows I would have preferred to spend it with him, at the penthouse, sipping wine and listening to Sibelius or some of Logan's non-poetry. I don't just come here for the meals anymore; I hope he knows that. I come for the company. I come for him.  
  
~Logan's POV~ (A/N: Do I really have to write it? I'm sure you guys are picking up the pattern by now...;-p)  
  
We decided that this puzzle was a bit too complex for Eyes Only and a superhero to figure out alone, so we got in my Aztec trekked across town to Sebastian's lab. I have to admit, when I first met Sebastian, I pitied him. Then when I became friends with him, I admired him. Now, I see him as not only my friend, but as my kick in the ass, the one Max can't always give me. As bizarre as it sounds, seeing Seb reminds me that even though I'm in this chair, things could have turned out much worse.  
  
Max stood behind me the entire time we were in the lab listening to Seb's findings. I have to admit, it was rather distracting having her so close, yet not being able to do anything about it. I could smell her, feel her. Her hands would brush up against my back every so often, and I could feel the heat radiating off her body. It was actually quite maddening.   
  
Then I heard Sebastian, or at least his voice modulator, say the words that made my heart drop and my overwhelming sense of Max-related panic momentarily set it. "Communicable. Terminal. Contagious." Diamond had been living with Max. What if she somehow passed the bioengineered disease on to Max? How would Max's system handle it? Would it give her seizures, worse than the ones she had in Cape Haven? But then, I knew that what Max had said earlier was true. Worry, at least in this case, accomplished nothing. Max hadn't had as close contact with Diamond as Original Cindy had. Right now they were the priority. And Max knew it. As soon as she heard the news, she flew out of Seb's lab before I could even tell her to be careful. After she had gone, I noticed Seb was staring at me, his eyes mysterious, knowing somehow. I felt like he was chastising me without speaking.  
  
"Don't look at me like that," I said, a bit harshly.   
  
But my friend merely smiled and said, "She'll be fine. Go home." Then he wheeled away. I was dismissed. There are only three people on the planet who can do that to me. My Uncle Jonas, who, when he does it, makes me feel belittled and I remember why I like being the black sheep of the family. Sebastian, who, when he does it, reminds me that I don't know as much as I think I know. And Max, who, when she does it, reminds me that she's the superhero with the secret and painful past, and I'm the rich boy who's madly in love with her.  
  
~Max's POV~  
  
After we escaped from Synthedine, my first instinct was to go to Logan's. But I knew Cindy needed me, even if she was putting up her tough as nails, I'm a megabitch front. I let her be for a while when we got back to the apartment, but slowly I worked my way in, so she could talk if she wanted to. What I didn't know is that the things she said would ultimately help me as much, if not more than they helped her.  
  
It started when she talked about Diamond as the person who helped her get her arms around who she really was as Original Cindy. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Before I met Logan, I was an escapee on the run who lived in squalor and hung with my crew, always hiding the truth from them. After meeting Logan, I began to realize that I was more than that. I began seeing myself as he sees me.  
  
"I try not to have all these feelings, 'cause it's easier that way," Cindy went on, looking at me with melancholy acceptance in her eyes.  
  
"But the feelings keep coming anyway," I heard myself say, and was kinda surprised by it.  
  
Cindy looked at me knowingly, her eyes saying silently "I told you so." Then she kept going in her catharsis, but I got the sense we weren't talking about her and Diamond anymore. "Even though you ain't with that person, you're not alone in the world either." I knew Cindy was right. She had me, I had her, we had the Jam Pony Crew. I had Logan. And he had me. Probably not the way either of us wanted to have each other, but it was a good relationship for the time being.   
  
Not long after she finished my second manicure-ugh, it so sounds like Manticore-in three days, my pager went off. Cindy and I looked up. I gave her a glance, "I can call him and tell him some other time."  
  
My Boo shook her head, "Naw girl, go on. Original Cindy will be fine. Go on to your boyfriend."  
  
I laughed, "Cindy, I keep telling you, it's not like that."  
  
"Whatever," Cindy said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the keys to my baby off the counter. She tossed them too me and said, "Now get goin'."  
  
I wasn't even going to bother fighting about it with Cindy, or try and make her see it my way. Because I knew it would accomplish nothing. I gave up trying to dissuade her a long time ago.  
  
Maybe it as when I realized she was right.  
  
~Logan's POV~  
  
When Max showed up, she looked tired, but basically amiable. I was waiting for her, rather shamelessly, even though I tried to make it look like I wasn't. I don't know if she knew or not. But Max let herself in and joined me in the living room.  
  
"What's the haps, Boss?" she asked, waiting for her next assignment.  
  
"How'd it go?" I asked.  
  
She sighed, and I understood she was worried, even sad, for what Original Cindy had gone through. "Basic infiltrate and destroy," she said as if she were giving a debrief at Manticore. "Went in and got Cindy, but Diamond was too far gone. So Cindy and I bounced and I rammed through the gates with a Hum-vy."  
  
I chuckled, but didn't say anything. It looked like something was troubling Max, but I couldn't figure out what it was. So, I suggested what I always suggest when I want to get information out of Max. "How about I make us some dinner?" I watched as her face lit up and she nodded, getting up to follow me into the kitchen. When I first met her, she could barely boil water, but she's picked up a few things by watching me. I let her make the salad while I whipped us up some steak au jus and mashed sour cream and chive potatoes.   
  
We ate in relative silence, which is actually better, because Max has a tendency of talking with her mouth full. It used to irritate the hell out of me, but now I think I find it kind of endearing, in some weird way. When we finished, Max sat back in her chair across from mine and smiled, "Once again, chef Cale, you have outdone yourself."  
  
I smiled, "But wait, there's more." With a sly grin, I took her plate and mine and placed them in my lap, wheeling myself into the kitchen.  
  
"Logan Cale, what are you planning?" Max asked, starting to get out of her chair.  
  
"Just stay there," I called from the kitchen where I was assembling our desert. "You'll see in a minute."   
  
When I re-entered, I made her close her eyes. It was bittersweet, because the last time I'd done that, the last time I had a surprise for her, I stood. Now all I did was place a bowl full of raspberries, blueberries, whipped cream and chocolate bits in front of her.  
  
"Open," I said, repositioning myself across from her. I don't think she'd ever seen or tasted fresh berries before, because her eyes widened in shock and she ate them with great gusto. I, on the other hand, was a little more reserved with my desert. But it made me laugh to see her chowing away at her food like she was a three year old in an ice cream shop.  
  
"Logan, that was wonderful," she said happily. "You spoil me."  
  
I smiled, "I know. I like it." Before she could respond, I set about clearing the table. I wouldn't let her help. Not out of some warped sense of pride, but out of old fashion manners. She was a guest. End of story. Just as I had set the dishes in the sink, the power went out. "Brownout!" I called.  
  
"Thanks Captain Obvious!" she replied good- naturedly. I could hear her groan in the other room. "I hate these."  
  
"You get the candles, I'll get the matches," I said, re-emerging from the kitchen.   
  
Max rose and nodded, "Deal."  
  
Little did I know she'd find *every* candle I owned. She piled them all up in her arms and carried them out into the living room, setting them up rather quickly, thanks to her enhanced genes. Of course, she let me to light them all as she went in source of some wine. I think she took extra time to allow me time to get everything lit. When she returned, I was sitting behind the couch, facing where she would me. I admit it; I love the way candlelight makes her face look. She looks vulnerable, and yet peaceful, as if she feels safe.  
  
"These brown outs are getting to be a major drag," she muttered, pouring us some vintage red wine.  
  
I remember responding something fairly priggish and matter of fact, but I don't know what I said. I couldn't take my eyes off her. To distract her from the fact I was gawking at her, I asked about Original Cindy. Then, I made a colossal error. I told her that I thought you never really got over your first love.  
  
"I wouldn't know," she said, the bitterness and remorse in her voice painfully evident. I immediately felt bad for saying it, sorry to have caused her heartache. I can't stand when I'm idiot enough to do that. Maybe that was why, even though I was embarrassed as hell, I let her read one of my poems. I guess it was a huge step for me, letting myself be that vulnerable and exposed in front of her. It's a one-eighty from a few weeks ago when I was going to off myself and leave my cold dead body for her to find. I still can't believe I was going to do that to her. I was supposed to be the one who took away her pain, not added to it exponentially.  
  
I opened up to her more that night than I ever thought I would, sharing my poetry and a glimmer of my past. I haven't ever told her much of anything about my parents. But that night I let her into my past, just a bit. "My dad was one of those manly men who thought introspection meant you were weak."  
  
Se responded in classic Max form, reminding me why I shouldn't take crap from anyone, "Since when does Logan Cale, man of words, speaker of truth, let the Fred Flintstones of the world get under his skin?" her tone was mocking, yet sympathetic and compassionate.  
  
"Oh since I was about three," I replied quickly, continuing our never-ending verbal sparring match. In Zach, I detested the Manticore wit. In Max, it was part of what endeared her to me. I handed her the poem, the one, one of the ones, I had written about her, and watching in nervous anticipation as she read it. I saw every emotion I had anticipated cross her face-joy, surprise, and shock. Then I saw the tears. They were only there for an instant, but they were. And I know she wasn't crying for sadness. I admitted to her that it was about her, for her. Hell, I nearly admitted she was my muse, my purpose. But I didn't.  
  
I couldn't believe the giant step we'd taken, so I turned my head away. In the glass, I saw the reflection of her tearing her poem from my book and stuffing it in her coat pocket. That's why I wasn't surprised when she handed the book back to me and bolted. I figure she went to the Space Needle and read and re-read and re-read that damned thing until the paper was tattered. I'm glad if she did. It was my gift to her. I think I was trying to give back what she'd given to me. Not because I didn't want it, but because I wanted her to realize what she'd given me.  
  
*Forever Eyes  
Dark  
Somebody's Angel*  
  
She's my angel.  
  



	8. Two Steps Back

Author's Note: Okay, was anyone else a bit disturbed by how dark "Pollo Loco" was? It didn't give me a hell of a lot of shippery stuff to work with either. Beware, loyal readers, there is more angst in this chapter than usual. As always, none of it's mine, please don't sue, blah blah woof woof. Shout outs to my beta homegirls, Lady Callie and Evil Twin!  
  
Author's note 2: Callie, I hope this makes you a little more okay with "Pollo Loco" as a whole.   
  
A/N 3: I wrote this in half an hour. Just thought I'd share.  
  
Story Note: An entry from Logan's journal...  
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My head is spinning. I can't believe everything that has gone on in the last several days. First, I have to deliver the news to Max that Ben was dead, only to find out he was not dead. Then Max nearly was caught by Lydecker, and then they *both* began covering for the killer, who I had no doubt was an X-5. I hated that she wouldn't let me in, wouldn't let me help. Just when I thought we were getting past that. Still, though, I guess, she *did* decide to let me in eventually, showing up on my doorstep tonight, her clothes torn and tattered, her body bruised, her posture making her look weak and defeated. But it was her eyes that shocked me. They were red, swollen, and puffy, and her face was tear streaked. She listlessly knocked on my door and just stood there when I opened it.  
  
She looked so helpless I wanted to cry for her. I couldn't think what to do. Tentatively, I reached out and touched her hand. Without really acknowledging it, she squeezed it, hard. She looked deep into my eyes, as though she was searching for safe harbor. I whispered her name and she began to weep again. I don't know what made me do what I did next, but I pulled her into my arms, across my lap, and held her while she wept. Bling came out of the kitchen and shut the door for me. Then he wheeled me into the living room, allowing me to keep my arms firmly around Max. She buried her face into my neck and wept so bitterly, so openly, and with such pain, I wondered what had gone on since I'd last seen her. I assumed Ben was dead, but I still don't know how he died or why it would make her weep so. I mean, I know he was her brother, but her weeping in my arms was guttural and full body. She was wracked by sobs and I was afraid she was going to have a seizure.  
  
I stroked her hair and rocked her as best I good, murmuring soothing gibberish to her. I was afraid she was going to make herself sick. And she did, Suddenly, she bolted from my lap and ran towards the bathroom. I could hear her retching. As I wheeled towards the master bath, Bling came up behind me and gave me a damp face cloth. I found Max leaning against a recently flushed toilet, looking spent and drained. She would not look at me. I slid myself out of the chair and forced her to lie down, her head in my lap. The cloth went across her forehead and I asked Bling to bring me another one that I placed on the back of her neck. She looked at me sadly then started to cry again, although this time with considerably less physical torment.  
  
We were like that for a long time, Max weeping, me stroking her hair and telling her that whatever had happened, it was going to be okay, that she had me, that I wasn't going to leave her. When she stopped crying long enough, I suggested she take a shower. She helped me back in the chair and I brought her a robe I had purchased for her not long after the mud incident. I told her I'd be there in an instant if she needed me, all she had to do was call. I shut the door and went to the kitchen to make her some soup. Bling had already gotten the pan out for me.   
  
She was in the shower for nearly forty-five minutes. After that long, I got worried and went to check on her. I knocked, but she didn't answer, so I cautiously pushed the door open. I could see, through the blurred glass of the shower door, that she was sitting on the floor of the tub, her knees to her chest. I pulled the glass back just enough to reach the knobs and turned off the water. Then I handed her a towel and left the room to give her privacy. She drudged out minutes later and listlessly, but without argument, drank down the hot soup. Then she went and stood by the large window in the living room, not saying a word.  
  
Part of me wanted to press her for information, but I refused to do that to her, to make her relive whatever had transpired before she was ready to. So I went in my office where I could still see her and I began to read. Then Bling dropped the bomb in my lap. Lydecker had gotten pictures to the Informant Net, and they had been delivered to me. I felt sickened by what I saw. First, because I had virtually asked for these pictures, foolishly going to Lydecker. I knew he was going to try to manipulate me into turning Max over to him, and I had prepared myself not to listen. But I wasn't as prepared as I thought and as ashamed as I am to admit it, his words got to me. Then the bastard sent me pictures of her as a child, blood smeared across her face and in her crew-cut hair. The pictures of what he had trained her and her siblings to do were what sickened me most.  
  
I looked at her and knew I felt afraid. And I hate myself for it. I am not afraid of Max. She has shown me time and again that I have no reason to be. Even though neither of us are willing to admit it, I know she cares deeply about me. She's saved my life a million times and probably will a million more. But what she and the others did to that convict was horrific and brutal. Still, my fear turned into sorrow, for her. I felt sorry that she and the others have to live with that memory. I'm sure that's what drove Ben to do what he did. He was doing it so someone would stop him, stop the killing he was trained to do. He wanted to be stopped. He just could not stop himself.  
  
God, I hope it wasn't Max who stopped him.  
  
Damn Lydecker for what he did to her, and to them! Damn him for what he said to me. Damn me for listening.  
  
I'm so sorry Max. I don't know what you went through tonight, but I promise I won't ask you until I think you're ready to deal with it. I'm sorry you've had to live the life you've lead. I'm sorry you've experienced so much physical and emotional pain, I wish I could take it all away from you. I'm sorry I went behind your back and met with Lydecker. I'm even more sorry I let him get to me. I shouldn't have done it. I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. I'm not afraid of you. I know what they did to you at Manticore and I in no way hold you or any of the others responsible for your actions. I'm sorry I looked at you with horror, terror and disbelief. I didn't mean to. I never want you to see me looking at you like that. I'm not terrified of you. You're the most important person in my life. I'm terrified, however, of what you when through. But please please please know I have never seen you as a monster, and I never will. I have always only seen you as human, beautifully, wonderfully, and mysteriously human.  
  
I vow, right now, that I, Logan Cale, Eyes Only, defender of widows and puppies, will do whatever is in my power to make sure you never have to go through any of that pain ever again.  
  
Damn, now I'm crying.  
  



	9. 

Author's note: This is the "I and I am Camera" chapter. Sorry it has taken so long to post. I am going to try to have a chapter for HASB up by Monday, but I need and episode transcript, so please, if anyone has one, could you please send it to me? Thanks. I'm sorry to everyone who also reads my "Air" fic; I know that's been neglected of late. I promise to get back to it as soon as I can. I am in my final week of classes and things have been a little hectic lately, but look for a new chapter soon. I promise. As always, none of it's mine, please don't sue. Thanks, as always, to my beta-boos, LadyCallie and Evil Twin. Happy reading!  
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Logan Cale needed a drink. A strong, powerful one. A stiff one. Preferably a double. His head was spinning as he tried to assimilate everything that had gone on recently. His entire world was tottering precariously, as though some great earthquake was threatening to undo the foundation, giving only small quakes as warning. It made him wonder when exactly the big one would strike.  
  
He had spent many years rebuilding his life, trying to find a goal, a purpose. He had been born to a life of privilege, cursed with it, perhaps, and as such had been blissfully ignorant until the first quake-the Pulse. His entire life had changed then. Especially after he had lost his parents-the second quake. His father had been like Jonas, proud, arrogant, shrewd in business but not very adept at family life. His mother, on the other hand, had been the shining star of the Cale family. She was unlike Margo in that she cared little for the wealth or status or power the Cale family name afforded her. She more than made up for the love and affection Logan's father had never shown him. But his parents had loved each other, of that Logan had no doubt. They were his stabilizing force, even when he had no idea what the real world was like, or how mean it could be.  
  
But he had learned quickly. Oh, how he had learned. As the eldest child of the eldest brother, Logan had all the power in the Cale family, but gladly handed it to Jonas for safekeeping. Before finding his true calling in underground cyber-journalism and cutting himself off as much as possible from his family, Logan had been the typical rich boy, even after the Pulse. He had indulged in liquor and women, desperately going from one to the next, trying to find solace, a place to build his foundation. He thought he had found it in Valerie. He had been wrong. He had stopped the womanizing and drinking only to realize that his wife was alcoholic and their marriage was a sham. He had mistaken comfort and good sex for love and support. It was around that time that Logan realized the kind of world in which he lived-earthquake number three.  
  
It was then that Logan had truly embraced altruistic journalism. Leaving the family estate outside the city for an inner city penthouse had been a huge move, however contradictory. From wealth outside to wealth inside was little change. But it had been enough to get him going, to work diligently as Eyes Only. He thought it was his foundation, his solace. He found peace, somewhat, in his work, in knowing that he helped people. But his life was a solitary one, with informants or cases going in and out of his life, fleeting as ghosts, his only companions his bodyguards and his computer.  
  
He hadn't truly realized how empty his life was, however, until Max had started unwittingly breaking down his walls, or more accurately, his door-earthquake number four. From the day she had broken into his apartment, beaten up his bodyguard and thrown herself out his window, Max had changed Logan's life. He had told her the truth that day he tracked her down at Crash-he hadn't been able to get her off his mind. He still couldn't. Not a single day went by that he didn't think about her. Not even when he was recuperating from the gunshot wounds that paralyzed him-quake five-did a day pass that the beautiful chimera did not enter his mind. He had been delighted when she returned to his penthouse after the accident, even if he had a strange way of showing it.  
  
Their relationship had been rocky at first-she had trouble letting people get close to her, and so did he, but for obviously different reasons-but Logan had never doubted their connection. In fact, it had become his foundation without him even knowing it. Max had become his reason for getting up in the morning, the reason for continuing Eyes Only, the reason he did not kill himself. Despite all the non-Manticore-related work he did, his prime focus was finding her siblings and trying to bring down Manticore. Everything else was extra. Anything Max came across became an Eyes Only mission. Or if she didn't bring him anything, he brought her stuff, just so he could see her.  
  
The day he had dropped her and Zack off at the cabin was one of the worst days of Logan's life. Once again, he was losing his foundation; that, coupled with the surgery and near death became quake six. When she saved him, transfused him, got recaptured for him, Logan knew how much she meant to him and how much he meant to her, even if they could not admit it. The next transfusion had brought them closer, and Logan could feel his foundation strengthening. For a while, he had actually begun to believe life was overall not out to make him its whipping boy.  
  
But then, he had his legs returned to him and snatched away all within a short period and it had undone him-earthquake seven. For a while, he hadn't even allowed Max to save him. But she had, like she always did, and things once again got as close to normal as their current situation would allow. They were growing closer by the day and sometimes it took all the willpower Logan had in him not to reach out, pull her close, and kiss her.  
  
But then, the biggest earthquake of all had hit and Logan's entire world crumbled again. As much as he hated to admit it, his faith in Max had been shattered by whatever happened with Ben. Lydecker's pictures had undone him and Logan was no longer sure what his foundation was.  
  
But then, Logan had found renewed faith in the most unlikely places. In a turbo-charged, semi-deranged do-gooder who was full of conspiracy theories and crazy ideas, and had a heart big enough to swallow Texas. It was a strange comedy meeting this man, who's name was, apparently, Phil. Each encounter Logan had with him was bizarre and strange, like everything else lately, and yet Logan found himself oddly soothed by the deranged man. The man was also frighteningly wise. He was able to kick Logan out of his stupor. Or at least help him begin to climb out himself.  
  
Logan had told Max he had many things on his mind. She was so damned perceptive. She knew him so well. He hated that he was letting Lydecker's pictures get to him. He knew that was the man's intention and he was falling into the trap. Every time he saw Max after receiving those pictures, he could not help but think of them. He was having trouble discerning the Max he knew from the Max in the pictures. Everything she said he wondered if she was joking or deadly serious.   
  
Seeing Phil drop his pants was something Logan could have lived without, but he would be lying if he said that seeing the exoskeleton didn't send ideas of potential running through his brain. He had immediately wished he could get his hands on one, so that he could use it. The idea of walking again was more tempting than any drug. The idea of being able to fight alongside Max without being a liability to her was downright dangerous.  
  
Then Max had saved his life. Again. And every doubt Logan had about her was as shot to hell as his car. While he and Phil had waited for Max to finish destroying the hoverdrone, Phil had been nosy and perceptive enough to pick Logan's brain.  
  
"So," Phil said, trying to catch a glimpse of the action. "Is she your, I mean do you two...?"  
  
Logan raised an eyebrow.  
  
Phil sighed, "She your woman?"  
  
Logan shook his head, "We're not like that."  
  
Phil looked surprised, "Really? I must be losing my powers of perception then. I thought for sure you guys went way back and had this really deep relationship." He frowned, deep in thought.  
  
Logan was also deep in thought. He and Max *did* have this really deep relationship. And even though they had only known each other less than a year, he felt as though he had known her their entire lives. He wished she could have grown up with him, or she could have known the way the world was before the Pulse. He wished he could show her what life was like before things got so that you had to fight, run, and be on your guard all the time.  
  
Phil broke into Logan's thoughts, "Are you sure you guys don't have that kind of relationship?"  
  
Logan nodded, "I'm sure. Believe me, I'm sure."  
  
"Hmmm," Phil scratched his chin. "Then maybe you should. Why don't you? Are you scared?" He looked at Logan as though trying to search him for signs of fear.  
  
Logan shook his head, "Max? I'm not afraid of Max."  
  
"I didn't say you were afraid of her. I could tell that. You trust her completely; I can see it in your body language. What I meant was: are you afraid of having a relationship with her?"  
  
Logan did not know why, but he felt as though he could talk to Phil about how he felt, "I'd only slow her down. She doesn't need me as a liability."  
  
"You wouldn't be a liability to her," Phil argued. "I've watched the way you two work together. You'd be lost without each other."  
  
Just then, Max hollered, "Boys!"  
  
"Over here," Logan replied, hoping to disguise the surprise and distraction in his voice.  
  
"Think about it," Phil whispered before Max got to them.  
  
Logan thought about his words the entire way back to Seattle. After dropping Phil off, Logan and Max had returned to his place. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged, "Yeah. I mean, it's not every day I'm nearly killed by a flying mechanical assassin, but other wise I'm okay."  
  
Max crossed her arms and looked frustrated, "Logan I don't know what's been up your ass lately, but if you don't want to talk to me about it, fine. I just thought our friendship went deeper than that."  
  
At first, Logan had been angered by her words. "Then why won't you tell me what went on with Ben?" he wanted to ask. But he refrained. In some way, he already knew and he didn't want to hurt Max anymore. Instead, he looked straight into her eyes and said, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shut you out. Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy. It's no big deal. I'm okay Max." She still looked doubtful. "Honest," he insisted.  
  
She sighed, "If you say so."  
  
"Trust me," he said, smiling.  
  
"I do," she replied, the sincerity in her voice shockingly clear. She seemed to hear the implications in her own voice, because she uttered her trademark "Gotta bounce" moments later. She returned after hearing about Jonas's death and how he'd tried to kill Logan.   
  
Logan had been grateful. She was always there for him to bounce ideas off of, or vent his frustrations to. Just having her there when he was once again enduring another earthquake meant more to him than he thought she knew. Even if she was angry with him for wanting to give up his money just because it came from a company seeped in blood. She had a point-he hadn't known, and therefore it wasn't directly his fault, but in Logan's mind, guilt by association was guilt enough.  
  
When they were sharing wine, later, after Logan had gone public about the family business via and Eyes Only broadcast, he once again was reminded why he should not be afraid of Max. In a discussion about Jonas, Max had said, with such seriousness that Logan's heart broke, "The one thing I learned in my years at Manticore is never underestimate what people are capable of doing to each other."  
Logan had immediately countered, saying, "My uncle, for all his privilege, went right for the heart of darkness. You've lived your life trying to get as far away from that as possible." But he knew Max was not completely encouraged by his words.   
She had gotten up to leave, to get ready for Herbal's friend's memorial service, but not before saying sadly, "Thing is...it's always there, the darkness...right on my tail."  
"I know," Logan had replied, with more understanding than he should have. "But you got moves." Even though he could not see her face, Logan knew she had smiled. Lydecker had been wrong. Logan *did* know what Max was capable of. And he was really working hard at getting back to the point where he didn't care.  
Shredding the check and the pictures had been therapeutic beyond words. Logan was able to exorcise many of his new and aggravatingly present demons all with the help of a handy dandy paper shredder. It made him smile, watching those pictures get destroyed. Logan knew his next step was erasing them from his memory. Which he would do. With time.  
And of course, Phil's gift might make that time go faster and help Logan erase the memories more quickly. The man lived a life that was comedy of the absurd, and was possibly a raving lunatic, but he was wise and kind and he had made Logan think. And he had possibly given Logan back his legs and yet *another* chance with Max.  
Maybe it was destiny.  
  



	10. Storytellers

A/N: Takes place after HASB. I don't own the characters, nor do I mean any infringement. I'm sorry I've been so slow with posts lately. I was finishing up school for the year and things got a little crazy. No fear, though, I'll be posting regularly again. After I get a "Meow"-based fic out look for the next chapter of AIR, finally! Thanks to Callie and Evil Twin, my always awesome beta-boos!  
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Max stood on top of the Space Needle, her mind swimming, her heart aching, her soul tired. Her body was tired too. She hadn't eaten well or slept in days. Se felt as though she had been fighting forever. Which was true, she had been, but especially in the last several days. Even though she had been designed to withstand constant battle, being outside of Manticore for so long had softened her. Just a little.  
  
Maybe being outside Manticore had softened her more than just a little. Because her first instinct, as she stood watch over nighttime Seattle, in all her fatigue and confusion, was to run to Logan. He was her safe harbor, her anchor. Even if he *had* been acting like the typical three legged junior lately. She noticed how distant and withdrawn he had become-again. He was less playful, more work-oriented, as though he was pulling away from her.  
  
Still, she wanted to go to him, to get his reassurances, and maybe a home cooked meal. She wanted to sit on his couch and sip wine and listen to him read his poetry and play chess. She wanted to fall asleep on his couch and wake up to find him cooking breakfast or working on some Eyes Only stuff.  
  
She knew he'd been through a lot lately. They both had. Throughout their entire lives, and especially since they had met, Max and Logan had gone to war and been through hell and back. And even though something told Max they weren't done going to war or through hell yet, she knew that in the year since they'd known each other, going through all that shit together had made things easier then if they'd had to deal with them apart. Going through it with him made things bearable. Because of Logan, Max didn't feel alone anymore.  
  
And Zach knew it. He told her not to make the same mistake as Tinga. He told her not to let love or family impair her judgment. However, she already had, and Zach knew it. Maybe that was why he was always giving Logan dirty looks. Because Max had returned to Seattle when Logan was dying, when she should have been running for her life. But the thought of Logan dying, of losing him, was more than Max could bear. That's why she never left. She knew the day would come when she would have to go on the run. She just found herself praying that it would not come before Logan was able to come along with her.  
  
She didn't know why she wanted him to come with her. She and Logan didn't have the kind of relationship Tinga and Charlie did. They weren't married. They didn't have a child. Why in the world would Logan drop everything just to come with her? And yet Max knew he would if he felt he could. She still remembered their kiss outside Jonas's cabin. She remembered the sweetness of it, the promise it carried, and the heartbreak it caused. Part of her wished she hadn't excused it away, but she knew she couldn't have followed up on it. It wasn't time.  
  
Time. She felt as though they were running out of time. It was an interesting thing, time. There was so much and yet so little of it. Tinga and Charlie had not had enough time. And yet Charlie firmly admitted that he would not give up any of the time they had spent together. Which Max found bittersweet. The Manticore part of her agreed with Zach. Even though she knew it was not phony sentimentality, she knew that on some level, Charlie would have been better off without getting embroiled in their bizarre family tree. Certainly, Kase would have been better off. He wouldn't have had everyone's favorite military lunatic trying to capture him or take his mommy away. However, the human part of Max, the part of her she was sure that Logan had brought to life, knew that Charlie and Kase would have been worse off. It was like what Phil was talking about-destiny. Kase was destined to be half chimera and half human, and Charlie was destined to be soul mates with a genetically engineered woman.  
  
Max wondered what she and Logan were destined for. Was it true that she was destined to be the personal cat burglar of a formerly wealthy altruistic brooding cyberjournalist and nothing else? Was she doomed to be forever on the run? Was Logan destined to be paralyzed, to be poor, to be somewhere between loneliness and abject despondence, with Eyes Only as his only link to the rest of the world?  
  
Max wondered if they were destined for each other, if each of them was just what the other needed. She had needed someone to watch out for her, someone to make her feel like a real girl, someone to help her find her sibs, someone to make her feel alive. He had needed someone to keep him real, to draw him out of his shell, to kick his ass as needed. Max knew Logan worried about her. Even though he had been a jerk lately, she had seen it in Logan's eyes when she had told him she was going to Portland.  
  
"So when I tell ya that this is a bad idea, a trap?" he had asked, practically begging her not to go. But she had, and had found Tinga, who was also doing surveillance on her husband and son. After doing much surveillance, they had fallen, briefly, into a nice sisterly chat, the kind Max had always imagined she'd have with one of her sisters, a conversation that wasn't really about tactical maneuvers and war strategies. They were talking about guys.  
  
"Did you ever tell anyone?" Tinga had asked.  
  
"Only because they kind of figured it out on their own," Max had said, chagrined.  
  
"Boyfriend?" Tinga sounded intrigued and was pressing her baby sister for gossip.  
  
"Not exactly," Max had replied, knowing it was her biggest almost admission to date. Why couldn't she just admit how she felt?  
  
She had designated Logan's apartment as the rendezvous point. It wasn't anywhere near Portland, but Max had given Tinga directions and instructions, incase she herself did not make it back before Tinga and her family. But she had caught up with Zach, Tinga, Charlie, and Kase rather quickly after departing the rooftop, after Brin had given her a stay of execution. Zach hadn't exactly been thrilled they were going back to "Miracle Boy's place," but they all knew it was the safest option.  
  
Logan had opened his home to them graciously, as he always did, as Max had known he would. He had made himself scarce, working in the kitchen or at his computer, staying out the their way, even though Max wouldn't have thought of him as *in* the way. He didn't say much of anything to her until he joined her and Zach at the table, watching Tinga and Charlie.  
  
"How's the happy couple?" he'd asked, his voice unreadable. It was dripping with something, but Max could not discern if it was concern or sarcasm. She couldn't tell if he was being nice, or referring to her and Zach, and not Charlie and Tinga. She wanted to smack him and ask him what had crawled up his ass and died, but she was too focused on her sister.  
  
"He'll get over it," Max replied. "At least they're together."  
  
Of course, then Zach had put in his two cents, "For now. Those two aren't gonna do anything but slow her down, mess with her judgment." He cast them both strange looks that Max didn't want to take the time to deal with. "If she's smart she'll tell him to take the kid and go. Otherwise, they're gonna end up sharing a suite back at Manticore."  
  
Logan pondered, but did not say anything, so Max took the opportunity. "You're a real family values kind of guy, aren't ya?"  
  
"Family isn't an option," Zach said bitterly. "Not for us." He glared at Logan and walked away from the table, leaving Max and Logan to their druthers.  
  
"Can't really blame the guy for being freaked out," Logan had said, in reference to Max's glowering brother-in-law. "Wonder why she never told him."  
  
Max had frowned; he made it sound so easy.  
  
"No," he'd said quickly. "If you're gonna have a relationship with someone, you have a right to know what you're getting into."  
  
It had struck a chord in her, his words, and she wondered once again, if he was talking about Charlie and Tinga. So, never one to back away from a discussion, had countered, "Only that's the thing about relationships. You never know what you're getting into." She knew that and so did Logan. And all of the sudden she was sure they were talking about themselves and not her sister and brother-in-law.   
  
Once again, Max had found herself wondering why she and Logan didn't just admit it. But deep down she knew. They were scared. There was too much at stake. They had to get past their own insecurities. He had to get past the fact he was in a wheelchair and she had to get past feeling like she had been the one who put him there.  
  
She knew Logan and Charlie had talked in the kitchen, and she couldn't help but wonder what they had discussed. She'd wanted to be a fly on the wall, but she had been too busy comforting her sister over the sick child. There was nothing Logan could do to take Max's pain away when she realized she was going to have to send another sister back to Manticore, and she knew Logan couldn't help; which was why she didn't even bother. They were strictly business. Then, once again, Zach had gotten to her.  
  
"She made herself vulnerable and now she's paying the price," he had said, his gaze cold and penetrating. "Don't make the same mistake."  
  
Max had walked away, not wanting to deal with it, knowing that in a heartbeat, she would do the exact same thing Tinga had. But she had suspected Zach knew it too. Which was probably why he didn't give her a hard time about taking Kase back to Logan's after they ad been ambushed in the South Market. Zach had escorted Kase, Charlie, and Max to Foggle Towers, but had left them there. Still, things were strictly business between she and Logan. That is, until Charlie had decided to smack some sense into them.  
  
"You know," he'd said, holding his son close to him. "This whole time, I've been thinking she could have told me from the start. Truth is, I probably would have walked away. Wouldda been the biggest mistake of my life. Cuz even after everything that's happened, I wouldn't give up one moment we spent together." He looked them square in the face. "Not one second."  
  
Max and Logan had swapped looks. Even as Charlie left, they just looked at each other, seeing the realization in each other's eyes. Max had muttered a "Thanks for everything," and fled for the Needle.  
  
But now she was coming back. It was late, past curfew, and she was risking it, but she didn't want to go home. She wanted to go to Logan's. She hoped he wasn't asleep. She saw the lights in the penthouse on from the ground and knew he wasn't. Silently, she entered, and heard him tinkering in the computer room.  
  
"Logan?" she called, feeling a sense of déjà vu.   
  
She could hear the surprise in his voice as he replied, "Max? Be right out." He wheeled out, the concern etched on his face. "Is everything okay?"  
  
She sighed in frustration and plopped down on the couch, "No, nothing is okay. Not any of it. Tinga's back at Manticore, Kase is without a mom, Charlie lost his wife, Brin belongs to the dark side, Zach's an ass, and I'm tired and hungry." Max stopped in her tirade and raised a brow. "Damn, I'm really bitchy tonight, aren't I?"  
  
Logan smiled, "It's okay. Let me throw you together some food. The hunger I can fix. Everything else..." He gestured to the air. "All I can do is talk to you about it. Or listen."  
  
She nodded, "Thanks Logan."  
  
He returned five minutes later with a sandwich, salad, and a glass of milk. She was touched. She hadn't had any seizures since Cape Haven, but he was always looking out for her. Max wondered if things had gotten back to normal. Or were at least starting to. She and Logan talked for several hours about Tinga, Brin, Zach, about how smart Kase was and how bad they felt for Charlie, having to raise a child alone. Around two in the morning, they both started to yawn.  
  
"Do you mind if I crash here tonight?" Max asked sleepily. "I mean, when I got here, it was past curfew as it was. Now, if I go out, the sector police will nab my ass."  
  
Logan smiled, "Sure thing. You want to use the guest room?"  
  
Max shook her head, "Naw. I'm too tired to move from here." She indicated the couch.  
  
He tossed her a cell phone and began to leave the room, "Call Cindy and let her know you're okay while I go find you a blanket and pillows."   
  
Max smiled and placed a call to Original Cindy. When Logan returned, Max was curled up on the couch, half asleep.  
  
"What'd she say?" he asked, beginning to cover Max with the blanket.  
  
Max yawned, "She said you better be good and take care of her boo, or she's gonna lay the smack down on your ass."  
  
Logan chuckled, "Good to know." He noticed Max was falling closer and closer to a deep sleep and quickly, yet gently, tucked a pillow underneath her head. "Good night Max," he whispered.  
  
"Logan," Max mumbled, trying not to slur her words. "Will you tell me a story? Tinga told Kase one the other night and I realized I'd never had a bedtime story before."  
  
Logan was a bit shocked, but honored she felt safe enough to ask him to tell her a story. He moved closer to the couch and asked, "What kind of story did Tinga tell Kase?"  
  
"About the Princess who escaped the castle and the evil king," Max said, struggling to stay conscious enough to tell him the basis of the story.  
  
"Okay," Logan agreed, taking a deep breath and looking down at his dozing angel. "Once upon a time, there was a princess who lived in a castle in a far away land. One day, she and her brothers and sisters escaped the evil king who held them captive, and tried to make their way in the world. It was hard because the king never stopped looking for them. But the princess was lucky. A few months after the escape, a mean wizard cast a spell that sent poverty throughout the entire land, and it was easy for the princess to disappear."  
  
Max furrowed her brow, "An evil wizard? I don't think I like this story."  
  
"It gets better," he assured her. "The princess made friends and kept herself busy and was surprised to find she was happy. One day, the princess made a new friend, an ally. She met a lonely and brooding man who lived in a tower. He was the guardian for the city the princess lived in, but he was tired with his job and was looking for a little adventure."  
  
"Did the princess give him the adventure he was looking for?" Max asked, grinning through her fatigue.  
  
Logan grinned, "Did she ever. Not only did she give him adventure, she gave him companionship and friendship. And she saved his life a couple times, for which the man was extremely grateful." Logan paused, "More grateful than the princess could know."  
  
"She says you're welcome," Max murmured, nearly sleeping.  
  
"Hey," he chided. "This is supposed to put you to sleep. Stop interrupting. Anyway, the princess and the guardian became friends and fought the evil king's men together, who were still out looking for the escaped princes and princesses. One of the princess's brothers paid her and the guardian a visit, but he was rude and surly and pigheaded."  
  
"I heard that," Max grumbled.  
  
"Sorry," Logan chuckled. "Then one day, the princess's sister was recaptured by the evil king and the princess was sad. But the guardian didn't like seeing the princess sad, so he tried to cheer her up. He made her food and told her stories and even let her read some of his secret poetry." He could see now that Max was asleep. "The guardian hated seeing the princess upset or hurt, so he made it his mission to protect her. And that's exactly what he did. It was his reason for being. She was his reason for being. She have him reason to get up in the morning. The guardian protected the princess and took care of her and sooner or later, they fell in love. Now, they were both scared to admit that they were in love, but it got so that they couldn't deny it." Logan took a deep breath, "And the guardian and the princess lived happily every after." He tucked the blanket up under her chin and kissed her forehead. "Good night Max. Sleep well Princess."  
  
Max waited until he had left the room to smile. The she snuggled deeper under the blankets and wondered what Logan would make her for breakfast when she woke up.  
  



	11. Here's to the Night

Author's Note 1: Whew! I FINALLY finished it. This story legit took me a week to write. Notice how lengthy it is. I guess it is because "Meow" was such a packed episode that it had to be this long. With school ending and finals approaching, I had trouble finding time to sit down and write this in one lump session. Sorry.   
  
Author's note 2: What did you all think of "Meow"? I liked it, even if I *had* read the script beforehand. It gave me lots of good shippery stuff either way.   
  
Author's note 3: As always, the characters are not mine (wish they were); they belong to Eglee and Titanic Boy. The title comes from a song by Eve 6, called "Here's to the Night." Thanks to my amazing beta-boos, Callie and Evil Twin! You girls rock!  
  
  
  
Logan Cale felt a little bit like MacGuyver. Trying to make the exoskeleton work again was like trying to make a nuclear bomb out of soap on a rope and a baby key ring. He had managed to swing the money, but had not taken into account the delivery time. He wanted to be up and mobile ASAP. With Manticore pulling tricks left and right, he knew Max was potentially going to have to run again. This time, however, he was damned if he wasn't going to run with her.  
  
The problem was, Logan didn't want Max to be in the know, so to speak. He wanted to surprise her. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw he was ambulatory again. He couldn't wait to smile and look down at her, take her face in his hands and bring her mouth softly to his own, to wrap his arms around her and... needless to say, Logan had been dreaming about this. Nevertheless, at the same time, as full of anticipation as he was, he was scared. Scared of the implications the exoskeleton would bring. He and Max had been dancing around their mutual attraction for so long, but they had been just that-dancing. Not willing to own up to it. What if Max still wasn't ready? What if she freaked out? What if-?  
  
"Knock knock!" Max interrupted Logan's thoughts and his conversation with Sebastian.  
  
Logan's eyes darted in the direction from which his angel's voice had come, and he heard Sebastian good naturedly suggest, "Could use your in house cat burglar." Just as Peter had, Sebastian had teased Logan about his initial search for Max. Had Logan been looking for his intruder and not for a new girlfriend? Who knew? Nevertheless, he had found an amazing woman whom he would love to be his girlfriend and so much more. All they had to do was face their fears and get Logan up and walking.   
  
"Logan?" Max called, having not gotten a response.  
  
"She's not in the loop on this little project and I want to keep it that way," Logan told his friend as he began to hurriedly cover the exo, in the event Max got impatient waiting for him and came in search of him.  
  
"I get it," Seb said knowingly. "You want to make a grand entrance."  
  
"Something like that," Logan replied, frowning a bit when he heard Max move away from the office and head towards the kitchen. 'She must be famished,' he thought.  
  
"No reason for her to know what the chip's for," Sebastian said conspiratorially.  
  
"Sneaky," Logan commented. "I like it. Gotta go." He disconnected and rolled out to meet Max, taking a final glance to make sure the hidden project was secure. Sure enough, Logan found Max near the kitchen, waiting for him and stalking around like a caged animal. 'She must have had a bad day,' he thought.   
  
"What happened to that great Chinese urn," Max asked as she headed for the kitchen at great haste, with Logan at her heels, trying to keep up with her. "Don't tell me you sold it." Normally, she would have sounded chastising, and maybe even pissed, but tonight, the comment came out more as a statement.  
  
"Wouldn't rule it out," he replied half earnestly, half seriously, watching her position herself on the breakfast bar, paying attention to him, but looking distracted at the same time. She attacked his fridge and he took the opportunity to rope her into stealing the evil, Peirpont Lempkin, Star Wars chip. He couldn't actually believe she bought it. To punctuate his "truth", Logan said, "I need you to do this for me."  
  
Max shot him one of her "Whatever" looks and began unexpectedly peeling off her clothes. Logan's eyes widened in surprise, as he tried to think good, non-Max and sins of the flesh related thoughts, when the Chimera commented, "Boy it's hot in here."  
  
Logan frowned, since he felt comfortable, and asked, "So, you'll do it?"  
  
"Whatever," she said, reinforcing her look.  
  
"On another matter," he began, but was cut off as thought Max hadn't even heard him.  
  
"I think I'm coming down with something," Max said, fanning herself and huffing exasperatedly.  
  
"I hope not," he said sincerely. "Cuz, you know, it was a year ago Thursday you broke in here looking to rob me." He smiled mischievously, knowing all that simple larceny had done for them both.  
  
This seemed to pique Max's interest, as she suddenly no longer cared about her possible illness. She perked up and smiled slightly, asking, "Is that right?   
  
"It's sort of like an anniversary," Logan continued, his smile widening as he thought off all that their anniversary could have in store. "I thought we should celebrate."  
  
He watched as Max's eyes clouded over and her posture slumped slightly. "Great," she said sadly. "I could use a little mirth in my life."  
  
He nodded knowingly, "It can't be easy, knowing they have Tinga." He had watched since her sister's abduction as his angel grew sadder every day Tinga was in Manticore's clutches. He wished there was something he could do to help her. Maybe he would be able to once he got the exo working...  
  
"Zach found out they didn't take her back to Manticore," Max said, her voice growing hard with disdain. "Hope he can turn something up on where they've got her." The determination in her voice was palpable.  
  
"Then we'll get her out," Logan said, his voice so full of promise it drew Max's attention. He tried to be upbeat, for her sake, saying, "Thursday night there will be an abundance of mirth." He smiled for her, looking like a mischievous boy, "And maybe even a little surprise."  
  
Max raised a brow, her intrigue truly piqued, "What?"  
  
"Then it wouldn't be a surprise," Logan replied, smiling with anticipation as he thought of the possibilities a working exoskeleton. Max smiled back and promised she'd be there Thursday night. She ate some more food and left, wanting to get home and sleep in case she was getting a bug. She didn't want to be ill for their big day.  
  
  
But unfortunately, Max *was* ill. Kinda. It was worse than a bug. Max was in heat. That horrified her. She knew what her raging feline hormones could make her do against her will. What scared her more is that she'd dreamt of *Logan* during the onset of her heat. Her feline DNA was telling her be with him, to mate with him. It hadn't told her to do that before. What did that mean? The implications scared Max. She and Logan had been dancing around their mutual attraction for a long time; too long. Now that she was in heat, Max was afraid she might do something she would regret, something she, *they*, weren't ready for.  
  
It was pretty humiliating telling Cindy about her "condition." First of all, putting a voice and words to it made the heat even more real. Which might have been why Max gave Cindy permission to clock her if the feline DNA got too out of hand. Max had to interact with men all day. How was she going to avoid jumping them-any of them, all of them? Thankfully, her friend understood and was cooperative, promising to lay the smack down on Max's ass should she get out of hand.  
  
Cindy was right at Jam Pony. Max *was* tripping. She was pacing and stalking like a caged animal. She was sweating, panting, and generally freaking everyone out. Not that she enjoyed it. She wanted to curl up in a ball and die rather than subject everyone to her time of heat. And seeing Cindy "proposition" Sketchy didn't exactly help. Cindy was trying to prove to Max that all she had to do was kick with some random shorty, without any emotional attachment, and she would be aiight. The problem was, Max didn't want to kick it with some random shorty; she wanted to kick it with Logan. But she couldn't. Why didn't Cindy understand?  
  
"Fine, if you don't want to hit it with just anybody, why don't you go be about it with a guy you're into?" Cindy suggested. "Like, Logan."  
  
Max sighed, "That's not how I want it to happen with us and anyway we're not like that." It was a total contradiction that Cindy completely caught, but Max didn't care. She and Logan *weren't* like that, no matter how much she wanted them to be. Especially now. She could picture his face, his stubble, his eyes, his hair, his hands, remember his touch, his smile, and practically melt and get the overwhelming urge to jump him. Which is not what she wanted to do. If she and Logan ever were to hit it, she didn't want it to be frantic, violent, or hormonally charged. She wanted it to be sweet and slow, tender and loving. Not that it would ever happen.  
  
"Stop talking about scratching," Max snapped at Cindy. "I wanna beat this bitch. You got my back?" She felt as though she was asking Original Cindy to baby-sit her, but effectively, that's what she was doing. She *couldn't* be allowed to lose control. She'd never forgive herself.  
  
"Who's your girl?" Cindy asked, right before they ran smack dab into Rafer and all Max's good intentions went out the window. Her hormones surged and her cat genes were telling her to mount him and take him right there. It was a good thing Original Cindy pushed Max out the door and forced her to work.  
  
By the time Max got home, she most definitely needed a cold shower. She had been horny as hell all day and Original Cindy had fought an uphill battle to keep Max from banging the gong with every John who crossed their path. When they got home, she was relived her boo hit the showers so she could get some downtime. Of course, when Max came out and started doing push ups, Original Cindy rolled her eyes. "I'm not even gawnna ask."  
  
Max sighed and sped up her pushups, "Hey, I gotta sit in the same car with Logan tonight."  
  
Cindy frowned, "Is that wise? You keep saying you don't want anything to happen between you two."  
  
Max again sped up the pushups, "No choice. We gotta run this... errand." Original Cindy didn't need to know they were breaking into a nuclear power plant to steal stealth technology.   
  
"He got the 411 on what's up with you?"  
  
Max groaned and jumped to her feet, thinking that Cindy should change her name from Original Cindy to Overly and Annoyingly Curious Cindy. "Are you kidding? He's the last person in the world I'd want to know." The more she and Cindy talked about Logan, the more Max had a hard time denying her attraction to him. When she wasn't in heat, she could ignore it; say it was a "phony sentimentality." However, when she was in heat, all bets were off. There was no denying, she wanted Logan, *bad.*  
  
Then, making matters worse, as if he knew he was being talked about, Logan showed up at Max's door.  
  
He thought it was strange the way Cindy was forcefully blocking Max with her body, which might have been why he didn't ask any questions when Cindy told him to wait downstairs. He could have sworn as he rolled down the hall he heard Original Cindy tell Max to drop and give her twenty. Maybe Max had a bad day at work and needed to work off some steam.   
  
Speaking of steam, Logan had no idea why the car was so fogged up. He hadn't thought it was humid. Damp and cold, as Seattle always was, but he hadn't noticed a heat in the air. "What's up with the windows?" He wiped the condensation off with his sleeve and looked over at Max. He observed she was sitting on her hands and looking a bit frantic. Maybe, if he didn't know her better, he would say Max was nervous. But Max never got nervous. So why was she sitting on her hands and biting her lip? Logan had to look away so he wasn't turned on by the sight of her biting her lip.   
  
"I don't know," she said quickly. "Why are you asking me?"  
  
Logan raised a brow, "I'm just saying. Must be humid tonight."  
  
"Must be," she replied, distracted.   
  
Logan shook his head, wondering to himself if Max had PMS. He chose, however, not to give voice to his thoughts, knowing he'd probably get a black eye because of it. He checked his watch and remarked, "The guards must have changed shifts by now." He squinted trough the fog and asked, "Can you make anything out by the gate?" Logan looked at Max and noticed she was staring at him strangely. What was up with this girl? He hoped she hadn't come down with something. And if she had, he wished she had told him. As much as he wanted the chip, he didn't want her risking her life by being too ill to do the job.  
  
"What?" Max asked, her voice sounding rough and slightly strangled or choked.  
  
"Can you make anything out past the gate?" he asked again, peering through the window.  
  
No," Max said quickly, her eyes widening. "Not a thing."  
  
Logan sighed and turned to face her, "You okay?"  
  
"Fine," she replied, not very convincingly. "Why?"  
  
'Oh, because you're acting extremely strangely, like you want to jump from the Space Needle, and I was just concerned.' Logan thought, but opted, in deference to his life, not to say. Instead, he replied, "Just checking." He began patting his pocket for his phone. When he couldn't find it, he began searching the car. He reached into the glove compartment, trying to ignore the chills he got as his arm brushed Max's leg. The next thing he knew, Max muttered something about getting it over with, and bolted from the car. "But the guards haven't-!" Logan managed to get out before the door slammed in his face.  
  
He sighed and sat back, tapping his fingers idylly on the steering wheel. They beat out random rhythms as Logan tried not to get antsy himself. He hated not being able to know what Max was going through every time she did a job. He wondered why he hadn't given her one of the spare earwigs a while ago. Maybe it was because he had figured she'd be offended, think he was trying to coddle her, and bounce right out of his life. He knew how strong and independent Max was. But he couldn't help but wish he could do more for her. Do more to protect her. He didn't want her to go through what had happened to Tinga. That was why he needed the exo working. He needed to be able to take Max away or run with her, in the even Lydecker closed in on them.  
  
Suddenly, Logan heard alarms go off and felt his heart leap into his throat. Max had obviously gotten in. The question was, had she gotten the chip? Had she been caught? Had she gotten hurt? Another reason he hated sending her out was that he knew he was putting her in danger every time. If she came back with so much as a scratch, a bruise, or a paper cut, Logan felt extremely guilt. Luckily, this time, all Max did was come back wet. She climbed into his car, dripping wet, and slammed the door shut.  
  
"You get it?" he asked.  
  
"No," she said snidely. "I just won a wet T-shirt contest." Luckily, she didn't notice the flash that went across Logan's features as the image of her in a wet T-shirt flashed across his mind. "Course I got it," she continued, reaching inside her cat suit and retrieving the pouch with the chip.   
  
He took it from her, an amazed look on his face. He couldn't believe that she'd gotten it. Not could he believe that she managed to hide anything in that skintight suit. A smile spread across his face as his eyes fell across the chip that would change his life.   
  
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, seeing his expression. "We foiled Peirpont Lempkin's evil plan and saved the world. Now can we get outta here?"   
  
Logan snapped out of it and hastily put the car in gear, noticing that the sirens hadn't stopped and the shouts were getting closer. Still smiling, keeping the chip in his pocket, Logan peeled out, and tried not to think to intently on how close he was to being up and walking, and how close he was to Max, who was sopping wet, and slightly panting.  
  
It was all Max could do as well to forget how close she was to Logan as she was panting and sopping wet. When he dropped her off at her crib, she hastily clambered out of the newly restored Aztec, which he had commissioned before Cale Industries went bottom up thanks to a phantom cyber journalist, and raced inside the building, calling a brief farewell to her confused and slightly distracted male companion. Cindy was asleep when Max got home. The X-5 female had been hoping for some girl talk, but she couldn't bring herself to wake her friend. Instead, Max threw herself on the bed and forced herself to go to sleep.  
  
The next morning, Original Cindy waited until they were at work to comment on Max making it home in one piece. Max, however, was not amused. "Very funny," she spat, less than glad her friend could make light of such a serious condition. "I just got to get through the next 24 hours. And, of course, today had to be the one-year anniversary of the night Logan and I met. And, of course, he had to remember. And, of course, he wants to have dinner."  
  
Cindy raised a brow, "Think you can make it through without jumping his bones?"  
  
Max rolled her eyes and began searching for something to deliver, "I don't even want to think about that. I just need to focus on the task at hand and the task at hand is delivering packages." Max grabbed a package and booked for the front, only to bump into Rafer. Again. She felt her hormones rage as he spoke her name and she dropped the package, running for the back office as she bellowed, "Normal! I need to take a personal day!"  
  
However, Type A asshole boss man was standing in the office in a wifebeater. Before she knew what she was doing, Max had thrown Normal against a wall and was trying to kiss him, hard. Had she been of better mind, she would have killed herself for even thinking such a thing. The problem was, she *wasn't* of a better mind. That's why she had tried to lock herself in a closet.  
  
Cindy must have followed her, because the most original one came barging into the office and clocked Max, hard, right across the face, sending her best friend sprawling onto the floor and leaving Normal so dazed and confused he told Max to take a week off. Cindy had dragged Max home and thrown her underneath the cold shower head, refusing to let Max come out until she had cooled off. An hour and a half later, Max had come out, blue skin and all, and dressed, her legs twitching with all the pent up energy inside her.   
  
The game had been a bad idea. Hung. Prick. And the word Original Cindy refused to say. In spite of her heat, Max felt terrible when she realized she had to cancel with Logan. She wanted more than anything to go over and celebrate their anniversary. He had been so sweet to remember and to make such a big deal out of it; especially after all she had been through lately. With trembling hands and racing breath, Max picked up the phone and dialed Logan's number. Her breath caught her in throat when she heard his voice.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Logan, it's me," Max said, wanting to get this over with as soon as she could.  
  
"Hey," he said. She could practically hear the smile in his voice and a pained expression took root on her face as she heard him say, "I'm glad you called. You think you could stop at the market on your way over and pick up some strawberries?"  
  
Strawberries. Her heart stopped. Logan. Strawberries. Chocolate sauce. Dripping, sweet, melted...Goddammit. "Listen, I really hate to do this," Max gulped and noticed her leg had started bouncing. "But I can't make it over tonight."  
  
"Oh."   
  
She could hear the surprise in his voice and felt her resolve wavering. She took a deep breath and hurried to end the conversation. "Something came up."  
  
"Is everything okay?" he asked, the concern in his voice so genuine. Max's heart began to break, realizing how much her canceling would hurt him.  
  
"Can we talk about it tomorrow?" she asked, hoping they would still be friends in the morning, hoping she could make it through twelve more hours without doing something she would regret.  
  
"Max," Logan began.  
  
'Oh god,' Max thought. She knew that if she let him continue the sentence, he would convince her to come over, or he would come over there; both scenarios would be disastrous. "I'll call you," she said quickly and hung up, panting. She tried her best not to think of what she had just done to Logan. It was for his own good. She'd explain it to him when she was better, or at least make up something comparable to smooth things over.  
  
  
Logan frowned and looked at the phone for a long time after Max hung up. He sighed sadly and placed it on the table. Slowly, with determined steps, he walked around the dining table. He sat down at the table and put out the candle with his thumb and forefinger, ignoring the pain that went through them as they met the flame. Logan sat at the table for a long time, running scenarios around in his head as to why Max might have bailed. He wondered if Lydecker was on her tail. If she had fled and not told him. If Zach had showed up and tried to convince her to leave. If she had freaked and decided, celebrating an anniversary was taking their relationship too fast. He wondered if he shouldn't have mentioned it at all. But he had so wanted to do something for her to cheer her up. He couldn't stand to see her sad.  
  
Logan sat at the table for along time. Eventually, he walked toward the office, where he had stashed his chair, and sat in it, reaching behind himself to disconnect the servos. He needed to feel numb. Sadly, fighting back tears and hurt, Logan rolled toward the large bay window and stared out at the broken city, under the cover of night, wondering what had made his angel take wing.  
  
  
Max had thought going for a ride on her baby would be a good idea. It would clear her head, release some of her energy, and wear her out. She couldn't sleep. She needed to be worn out, and if she wouldn't give into her urges, then she needed to tire herself out somehow. What Max hadn't counted on, however, was running into Rafer. Again. Because the third time was, sadly, the charm. Her animal instincts took over and before she knew it, they were in his hallway, tearing each other's clothes off. It was frantic, violent, needed, rough, and a release. However, it hadn't at all cured Max. It had given her a completely new set of problems. Where the yearning and desire had once been, grief and remorse replaced it.  
  
Disappointed in herself, Max dragged herself home and tiptoed past Cindy's room. Once Max was in the shower, she knew it would be okay to cry. She cried in the shower a lot. There, no one could see her. In the shower, no one knew she was frail, she hurt, she feared, she wept. She wept until she no longer had tears to cry. The cold water washed them away and down the drain where no one would ever see them, where no one would ever know Max the Brave had wept. Zach and Lydecker would be so disappointed. Miserably, Max got out of the shower, not noticing her chapped skin. She hadn't felt the icy water-she was too numb.  
  
Dressing in pajamas, Max sat on the couch and stared into the darkness, surprised when she found herself still weeping. She wept all night until she dozed off into a fitful slumber. Original Cindy woke her in the morning. The woman took one look at her swollen eyed friend and knew what had happened. Without saying a word, she left to get a box of tissues for Max. Upon returning, however, she decided to give her special, Original Cindy brand of wisdom.  
  
"Aiight, Original Cindy is going to break it down for you, boo. You can sing the blues all you want to about how what you did was wrong and bad and now you feel cheap and empty. But that's just a bunch of BS. The truth is you love Logan." Her tone was pointed and caught Max off guard. Max looked in shock at her friend, but Original Cindy was not daunted. She gave Max a no nonsense look, not wanting to hear another round of denial.  
  
"Look, we're not even like that." Max took a sad breath and stared at the floor, "The fact is, we'd both be better off if we never even met." The words felt like lead on her chest, lead that had been there for nearly a year.  
  
Cindy scoffed, "Yeah, right."  
  
Then, Max made the admission she'd been keeping inside her for months, "He has to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair on account of me." The guilt was painfully overwhelming.  
  
"I didn't see you on TV pulling no trigger," Cindy replied to Max's ludicrous comment.  
  
"No, but I could have protected him, and I didn't. That's on me, 100%. I'm nothing but trouble. I'm poison. The best thing for me to do is keep my distance before I get him killed." It was the truth as Max saw it. She would do anything to keep Logan from getting hurt because of her. She had already done so much to hurt him.  
  
Cindy, on the other hand, as always, would hear none of it, "Well, he doesn't seem to be too worried about that-the way he's always looking at you all dreamy-eyed." She made a silly face hoping it would get Max to smile.   
  
Mac, however, did not notice the humor. She was too wrapped up with guilt. "And what do I do," she asked. "I stand him up on our anniversary and go have sex with a total stranger. That's what I call true love."  
  
Cindy smiled and put her arm around Max's shoulders, "The only reason you ended up with hot boy is because you were running from the reality of the situation. Now, you gonna have to step to the real about you and Logan-sooner or later-or your little head's going to explode." She wondered if Max was really hearing her, or was too busy wallowing in guilt and self-pity. One thing Original Cindy hated was a pity party. "But what do I know? I'm just a big 'ol lesbo."  
  
Max chuckled in spite of herself and took Cindy's offered tissue. She let Cindy hold her while she finished crying. The weeping tired her out and Cindy managed to convince her to get some sleep. The heat was gone and all Max felt was drained. She slept all day, taking full advantage of her personal days. After she slept, she ate the food Cindy had left her. When it grew dark, Max knew what she had to do. She had to go face Logan. She owed it to herself, and to him. He deserved the truth. All of it. No more hiding.  
  
Logan was not expecting Max to break into his apartment, especially not after she had bailed the previous night. But the tell tale swish of a rappelling line through his skylight was enough warning for Logan to get himself into the chair and roll out. Smiling in spite of himself, just glad she was there, Logan commented, "I think you got your nights mixed up." She stepped out from the shadows with a smile on her face. Logan looked into her eyes and saw they were clouded. Whatever had been bugging her the past couple days was still eating at her.  
  
"First time I broke in here, it was about midnight so, way I figure, it's still our anniversary," Max replied.  
  
Logan smiled, hoping to comfort her whatever way he could. "Well, in that case I've still got a bottle of cheap champagne in my fridge." He watched as she forced herself to grin. Not mentioning it, Logan wheeled into the kitchen to get the wine while Max lit some candles and turned on the music. When he returned to the living room with the drinks and glasses, Max was sitting rigidly on the couch. Logan quietly poured them each a glass and handed her one. He noticed she jerked a little as he brushed her skin. He was going to let her begin. He wasn't going to push her. He didn't want her to break or bolt. She was there with him. That was all he cared about.  
  
"So, about last night," she began.  
  
"No big deal," he replied, half deflecting, half trying to make her feel better about bailing on their anniversary dinner.  
  
"I owe you an explanation," she insisted, taking a deep breath and a swig of the wine. "See, I go through these phases."  
  
Okay, of all the things Logan had been expecting, that certainly wasn't one of them. "Phases?" he asked, genuinely confused.  
  
"'Cause of my feline DNA," she went on, obviously hoping he would get the hint. The look of pain and embarrassment that ran across hr face when he still did not comprehend was unmistakable. "Oh God, Mac said, laughing self consciously. This something I so don't want to talk about. You know, cats? Mating cycles?" The expression in her eyes practically said KILL ME NOW.  
  
Finally, Logan understood. In complete and utter shock, he said, "Oh... cycles." He took a sip of his wine. "Really?" He gulped the wine. "So, you go into...wow." Logan Cale, ever the wordsmith. Way to make her feel less self-conscious. If ever there had been a time when Logan was less suave and debonair, this was it. Max was visibly uncomfortable.  
  
"So, that's why I decided not to come over because, well, because," Max began. She was at a loss for words, due to serious embarrassment. Logan could tell she would have died rather than tell him about her heat cycles.  
  
"Well," he said, hoping and trying desperately to make her feel better. "I'm glad you're here, and let's just forget about it." He raised his glass in a toast, smiling when he heard their flutes clink. He watched as Max took a sip of her champagne.  
  
"Yeah," she said mirthlessly. "Let's." Her dark eyes were still cloudy and full of remorse. He was not helping her feel better.  
  
Logan set down his glass, "Max, it really is okay." He wished she could believe him. Now he knew what was wrong and he totally understood why she'd freaked. He was glad, actually, she hadn't come over. He would have had such performance anxiety if she had tried to mate with him. Having sex with a woman who was genetically engineered, primed, and ready was a rather daunting thought.  
  
"No, it's not," Max said, the misery in her voice so palpable it broke Logan's heart. "I hate it. I hate that this happens to me. I hate what it does to me, the things it makes me do." Her tone was somber as she rose from the couch in anger and self-derision.  
  
Logan tried to be nice, polite, struggling to calm her, "All you did was miss dinner, right?" When Max didn't answer right away, Logan's heart nearly stopped. He hoped to God he was jumping to conclusions. He waited for Max to prove him wrong.  
  
Her voice was so full of pain, and horror at what she had done, it was hard for Logan to be angry with Max. However, the initial shock of registering what she had done did not dissipate as she said, "I should have stayed home and gone to sleep, but I didn't I went out for a ride to clear my head and get some fresh air. I ran into this guy." Max knew she was sounding as though as was making excuses. She tried desperately to explain to him. "It was a mistake. It wasn't me." She turned away form him so she didn't have to see the look of disgust on his face. Tears choked her as she continued, "It's just something Manticore tricked up inside of me that I can't control. Makes me feel... like no matter what I do or how far I run I can never get away from them." Max turned back to him briefly, "Never." Then she turned back to the windows, weeping for the second time in one day.  
  
Logan was so touched by Max's heartbreak, so moved by her display of emotion, vulnerability, and outright sorrow for her actions, that any hurt feelings or bitter thoughts vanished like a fleeting morning mist. Taking a deep breath, Logan rose from his chair and, although a bit unsteadily, walked toward her. Leaving the chair felt liberating, as though he was leaving behind his own feelings of betrayal, and all his old hang-ups. She was turned away from him and did not see his reflection in the rain-covered window. When she sensed his presence, Max whirled around and stared up at Logan, her mouth agape, the shock registering on her lovely features.  
  
He smiled at her. The moment was everything he had imagined, and so much more. "It's all right," he murmured. She looked down at his legs and he explained, "Courtesy our crazy friend Phil."  
  
It seemed as though Max had briefly lost her powers of speech. When she found them again, she managed to ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Logan tried not to make her feel worse, "I wanted it to be a surprise for last night, an anniversary gift."  
  
She realized how much the previous night had meant to him and her face fell. "I'm sorry," she said brokenly.  
  
He stepped closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he told her earnestly. "Or ashamed of. I know who you are." Logan could see the need to believe his words in Max's eyes. He took a breath and leaned in to kiss her, to seal his words and make his promise. Then, he felt a jolt go through his system that had nothing to do with Max and he fell to the floor, his legs twitching uncontrollably.  
  
Max gasped when he fell and shot her hand out, grabbing one of his and cushioning his fall. "Dammit!" Logan cried angrily, frantically trying to get the servos from malfunctioning. Two seconds ago he had been upright and now his damnable body had failed him again. He hated Max seeing him weakened. Part of him was afraid it would turn her away.  
  
"It's okay," Max said, her the expression on her face one of sympathy. She knew Logan was feeling humiliated and emasculated. She wished she could not make him feel that way.  
  
Logan looked up at her, reaching behind his back, "Sorry, let me just..." He switched off the exoskeleton and his legs were once again dead and numb. Defeated, Logan peered up at Max, praying he wouldn't see her face marred by pity. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Logan," Max said firmly, crouching and grabbing his hands. "You've got nothing to be sorry for or ashamed of. It's never been about you being able to walk." She flashed him a prize-winning smile, "Not for me."  
  
All Logan's feelings of anger and self pity went flying out the window as he saw the total acceptance and unconditional love in her eyes. She wanted to be with him, chair or no chair. That meant more to him than he could express. Looking at their situation, sitting on the floor, wallowing in their own self-pity and trying to drag the other out of theirs, Logan couldn't help but laugh. "Will you look at us?" he chuckled.  
  
"Pathetic," Max agreed, joining him in the chuckle.  
  
"Hopeless," he added.  
  
She grinned and shot him a devilish glance, "Lucky we hooked up."  
  
Logan nodded. "Happy anniversary," he murmured, leaning in to kiss Max's cheek. His lips found purchase on her soft skin. It was meant to be a friendship kiss, at least in theory, but his lips lingered, refusing to leave. He drew back slowly, their mouths merely a breath apart. He saw a look of tenderness and desire in her eyes as she smiled slightly and closed the distance between them. They kissed each other tentatively at first, sweetly, cautiously. As the kiss began to deepen, Logan pulled back reluctantly. He saw the hurt and confusion in Max's eyes and quietly said, "Maybe, uh... maybe we should wait. You know, until you're yourself again."  
  
Max smiled gently, "This isn't Manticore." She took his face in her delicate hands, "This is me." She kissed him, her lips soft and yielding. Their rush of passion and emotion resumed, a year's worth of wanting, desire, and need poured into that kiss. They were not going to deny themselves any longer. They had come too far, gone through too much. This moment was too perfect. Logan wanted to shout for joy, but refrained because he knew that would interrupt the kiss.  
  
Then, their kiss was interrupted by the human cold shower. Zach clomped into the room and stated irritatedly, "Looks like I caught you at a bad time."  
  
Max pulled away from Logan, startled by Zach's voice. Logan rolled his eyes and sighed, wondering if Zach had the place bugged. How did he always know the worst moments to show up?  
  
Zach continued, sounding even more highly irritated, "You want to go save Tinga or has something more urgent come up?"   
  
Logan frowned and looked at Max. His beloved was glancing hastily back and forth between himself and her brother. Knowing now was not the time for him to play the jealous boyfriend, Logan nodded imperceptively, knowing Max would notice it. Without a word to Zach, Logan and Max moved as a unit. She helped him off the floor and edged him back towards the chair. He unset the lock and squeezed her hand before they headed for the office, brushing past Zach and leaving the irritated X-5 C.O to follow them.  
  
In the office, Max tried not to be angry with Zach, even if her brother had interrupted her perfect moment with Logan. Zach was right. They had to save Tinga. Tonight apparently. She knew Logan would understand. He knew her so well. That was why she wasn't surprised when he said, "I want to help." He stopped caressing her leg, as he had been doing so comfortingly during Zach's entire exposition of the plan, and wheeled over to a drawer, from which he removed two earwigs. He placed one gently in her hand and murmured, "We can stay in touch on comms."  
  
They exchanged looks of silent understanding and acceptance. "This will wait, right?" Max asked, hopefully.  
  
Logan smiled reassuringly and nodded, "We have all the time in the world." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. Wordlessly, Max squeezed his hand and left. If she stayed any longer, she would lose her resolve. She needed to be a total soldier now. Max the girl in love had to be put on the back burner. But it was reassuring to know Logan was going to be with her every step of the way. Hearing his voice in her ear brought her a comfort and a strength she hadn't previously had in battle. 'Maybe we shouldda hooked up a long time ago,' Max thought to herself.  
  
"Logan, you there?" Those three words held more questions and more relief than Zach could have possibly known. Max's voice, although calm, steady, and businesslike, was not only asking if Logan had her back just on the mission. The thoughts of what "there" implied flashed through Max's mind as she and Zach crept down the tunnel near the silo. She wondered if Logan thought of all the implications of such a small word when he replied,  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She tried to keep her mind in the game, on her sister, focusing her attention the way good ole Deck had taught her to. Every time Logan's voice sounded in her ear, she used it as a strength, not as a distractor. She knew Zach would tell her to just drown it out-to Zach, Logan was just tactical. Well, to Zach, Logan was probably many other things that Max would have to kick her brother's ass about later.  
  
Taking out the guards inside was no problem. They never even saw her coming. A few kicks and punches and they were down for the count. Max could have taken the lab tech out in her sleep. Apparently, Manticore only trained their soldiers how to fight. After seeing the pitiful display by the man arming the controls, Max almost wished Manticore taught everyone a little fighting 101; it had been too easy.  
  
All thoughts of easiness escaped Max's mind the minute she saw Tinga, floating, suspended, dead, and disfigured, preserved but still recognizable inside the glass case. Her eyes were closed and her hair was floating around her so that she looked almost like an angel. But she had tubes coming out of her breasts, pelvis, and neck. Her veins showed through her blue skin, many of them broken and collapsed. Max knew she was dead before she even broke the glass case. Purely on instinct, and in an act of rage, Max picked up the chair and hurled it at the glass, allowing all the water to rush out. Tinga's body tumbled out and Max caught her sister, cradling her gently in her arms.  
  
She was so overwhelmed with grief that she never heard Logan's warnings about the approaching military convoy. She barely registered hearing Zach say he had been hit or Logan ordering him to retreat. As Max rocked Tinga, weeping and crying out her name, she kept hearing Logan call her name, ask if she was okay, begging her to talk to him, but he sounded so far away. Where was he? Why didn't he come get her? Why didn't he come swooping in, or driving up, firing away so she and Tinga could escape? Where was he? Why did she keep hearing him?   
  
Max shut down and wept as she rocked her sister, begging for forgiveness.  
  
Logan's eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when he saw the cloud cover break. There was a full military convoy surrounding the silo. His frustration about the clouds was quickly replaced by derision and anguish, wishing he had seen the military sooner.  
  
"Max, Zack. Full military convoy," he warned, sitting straight up in his chair and looking wildly at the screen.  
  
"I'm hit," came Zach's reply.  
  
"Get out of there," Logan said, wondering why Max hadn't reported. If she was in danger or had been captured, no one could help her. Zach was wounded and retreating. Logan was in the penthouse staring blankly at a screen. She was on her own.  
  
"Max? Max, pull out," Logan said forcefully as he watched more Hummers pull up to the Silo. His heart began to race when he again did not get a reply from Max. "Max, you got to go," Logan stressed as he watched the little spots he believed to be people entering the silo. Again, Max did not reply. Logan licked his lips and swallowed hard, resting his face on his hand, staring helplessly at the screen.   
  
Suddenly, Logan heard Max grunting, as though she was trying to throw some three hundred pound guy off the top of a building. Then he heard the sound of breaking glass and rushing water. "Max," Logan said, alarmed. "Are you okay?" Why wouldn't she talk to him? What was going on?  
  
Then, into his headset, he heard he beloved cry, "Tinga, no!"  
  
At this, Logan sat even straighter, his heart pounding, his mouth dry. What had Max found? What had happened to Tinga? "Max," he whispered into the headset. "Talk to me."   
  
Sadly, the only response Logan heard was, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  
  
What was going on? "Max?" Logan asked, praying she would answer him, let him know she was okay, tell him what was going on. As he stared at the screen, watching another cloud cover roll in, Logan felt a greater sense of helplessness than he'd ever known. He was truly paralyzed now. There was nothing he could do to help Max.  
  
Nothing.  
  
  



	12. If Only

Author's notes: This is it, kidz. This is the final installment in "Sight Unseen." I realize I started this fic series mid season, and as thus there are roughly ten episodes missing. However, I will not be adding to "Sight" as see those repeats air over the summer. If I added stories based on those episodes AFTER the finale fic, then "Sight Unseen" would be disjointed and lose its flow. However, do not fear, there are sequels in the works. Look for the sequel to "Sight" to be up in a few days (it's a short fic, not a series) and then look for a second series to be coming by the end of next week. Also, to those of you who have been wondering where in the hell "The Air That I Breathe" went, fear not: it's being dusted off and given new life. I promise to have a new chapter for that posted incredibly soon.   
  
Author's note 2: This is, obviously, the fic for "And Jesus Brought a Casserole"...it's primarily Logan's POV, but I couldn't leave poor Max out, could I? Please be aware that this story fluctuates between Logan's thoughts and actions in the now, and his thoughts *then*, as in during AJBAC. The song is "If Only" by Tiffany...yes, you heard me right, Tiffany. As in sweater dresses, shopping malls and that 80's hit "I Think We're Alone Now." This song, however, is good and captures, I think, some of Logan's thoughts.   
  
Authors Notes 3: Thanks to my incredible betas, Lady Callie and Evil Twin. You guys are incredible and have helped make my fics so much better. Get ready to work, ma sistahs; I'm gonna have some heavy-duty fics for you two to beta soon. BTW, Callie, if you still have it, can you send me that outline for the rest of "Air" that I ran by you about a month ago? I can't find it in my stuff. Thanks.   
  
Disclaimers: As always, none of it's mine, I don't own any of it, even if I wish I did. Max, Logan, and all things "Dark Angel" belong to Eglee and He Who Thinks He's the King of the World. Michael Weatherly belongs to Jessica Alba and vice versa, and the song belongs to Tiffany and whoever wrote it. Thanks to the Eyes Only website for getting transcripts posted to help this poor old fic writer.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
  
Logan Cale parked his Aztec at the base of the ramshackle Space Needle and turned off the engine, sighing dejectedly. He looked up at the imposing structure that had once been a Seattle landmark and internationally known piece of architecture, and felt no fear, despite its incredible height. The sky was overcast, as usual, and it was cool and damp, as usual, even though it was springtime. Logan took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, still somewhat marveling over the fact that he *could* step, as opposed to the shifting and sliding in and out of the wheelchair he had grown accustomed to over the last nine months. The servos on the exo made whirring noises with each step Logan took, as he, with heavy heart, began the ascent up the Needle.   
  
He knew Max usually ascended the thing with ease, thanks to her feline DNA. She had told him once not long after she first suggested taking him up there that she merely scaled the narrower parts until she reached the part of the structure that used to be a spinning restaurant, at which point she broke into a service hatch; it was easier than climbing over the rounder parts of the building. When she had taken him there though, she had been kind enough to bring along rappelling line. Logan couldn't believe how little time had passed since he and Max had taken their first and last trip together, to the top of the Space Needle. Max had been right- it *did* feel as though they were on top of the world.   
  
She had fired the rappelling line up and waited for it to hook securely on something up top. She gave the line several firm tugs before she was satisfied with its level of safety. She had looked at Logan, who, for his part, had been trying to keep his knees from knocking. He was sure the metal exoskeleton would have only amplified the sound of his fear. Max, in her own devilish way, had been acutely aware of his fear of heights. Without a word, she had helped him get into the harness, and then slipped into her own. Then she had connected their harnesses together so that they were facing each other, and clipped on the hook that was connected to the line. She had looked him deeply in the eyes and smiled, "You scared?"   
  
~~**~~  
Now, days after Max's death, Logan looked up, hearing Max's voice ring in his ears.   
~~**~~  
  
That day, Logan had looked up and sighed, "No, not at all."   
  
"Liar," she had retorted, kissing the tip of his nose. Max squeezed his hands, "Come on. It'll be fun, I promise." She ran her hands through his hair, "Besides, I've got you. We've already done something like this once before. It'll be all good, I promise."   
  
~~**~~  
However, it hadn't been all-good, Logan thought sadly as he broke the lock on the service entrance at the base of the Space Needle and began the long climb up to the top.   
~~**~~  
  
Days ago, Logan had forced a smile, knowing he couldn't say no to her, "I'm only doing this because it's you, you know that right? You're the only one who could convince me to do this."   
  
"I know," she had grinned. "Thank you." Max kissed him lightly. Before he could deepen it, she pulled away. "You could always stay down here and wait for me."   
  
"I'd wait for you forever," he had replied, yearning to continue with the kiss. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not for a minute." Logan leaned in to kiss her.   
  
Before his lips found their mark, Max replied, "That's what I thought you'd say." Then she began pulling the rope and lifting them off the ground, towards their destination. Graciously, she had not laughed at him when he gasped as he felt his feet lift off the ground. "Relax," she had said, continuing to thread the line. "It's gonna be fine." Max had pressed her forehead to his and began kissing him intensely, knowing he would be helpless to resist.   
  
Eventually, he had broken the kiss, keeping their faces close together, saying, "You trying to distract me?"   
  
Max had nodded, "And it worked too. Look."   
  
Logan had looked up to find that they were nearing the well-used hatch with the broken lock. He had expelled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, "Thank god you can multitask and parallel process like there's no tomorrow, or that little make out session would have been the end of us."   
  
Max had reached up and pulled the door open, "That's why you're so lucky you hooked up with a genetically engineered killing machine." She grabbed onto a bar and pulled them both through the door so that they were lying on the floor.   
  
Logan helped her unattach their harnesses and they pulled each other to their feet. She started towards the old dining room but he held her hands tightly. He stepped toe to toe with her and made her look at him. "Max," he had said softly. "I meant what I said the other day. You have nothing to be sorry for...or ashamed of. I know who you are. I know what you are. And you're definitely not a genetically enhanced killing machine. I'm sorry for calling you that; you're not a killing machine. You're more than that." He had tipped her chin with his forefinger. "Remember what I said the second time you broke into my apartment? I said you had probably the most singularly beautiful face I've ever seen."   
  
Max had smiled, and quoted herself, "Expensive gifts, surprise late-night visits, over-the-top flattery. Do you always come on this strong?"   
  
Seeing what she was doing, Logan had played along, "Only when I meet someone I have to know everything about."   
  
"And do you?" Max had asked, looking up into his eyes.   
  
"No," he had replied honestly. "But I want to. And I can't wait until I know everything about you. I can't wait until you feel safe enough to let me in on everything."   
  
Max had gazed deep into his eyes and he could see that she so desperately wanted to believe him. She must have found what she was looking for, because she cocked her head slightly and said, her voice full of mischief, "And what about you, Logan Cale? I don't know everything about you yet either? Is that gonna change or is this only a one way street?"   
  
Logan had kissed her gently, "It's a two way street, I promise."   
  
"Good," Max had smiled, taking his hand and pulling him towards the broken window that would allow them to climb out onto the graphiti-covered surface if the Needle.   
  
  
~~**~~  
Now, several days later, Logan breathlessly reached the top of the stairs and looked into the dilapidated dining room, remember every nuance of their conversation. The ghosts of the past several days haunted Logan like sadistic specter that wouldn't leave. He remembered every word, every touch, and every action. He climbed out the window and sat down on the metallic surface, remembering the last time he had visited here.   
~~**~~  
  
  
Max had held his hand and guided him across the slanting surface. She had made sure he was seated before stepping closer to the edge herself, overlooking the foggy city of Seattle. He remembered thinking how graceful, beautiful and majestic she had looked as she stood there, as though she was a queen overlooking her kingdom. Truly, she had Seattle at her feet. Partially to forget his won numbing fear of heights, and partially out of plain old infatuation, Logan had watched Max. Studied her. Observing the way the wind toyed with her hair like a lover, the way he wanted to; the way she held herself; the way she moved; the sighs she made and the way she pursed and licked her lips distractedly, obviously absorbed in thought. He had wished he could read her mind, know exactly what she was thinking, know exactly how she was feeling. He had an idea, probably an accurate one-they were, after all, connected. Her blood had created between them a deep connection. Logan almost believed their hearts beat at the same rhythm.   
  
"You okay?" she had asked after a while. She must have felt his eyes boring into her.   
  
Logan sat on the Needle and looked at the spot where Max had stood not many days ago, and remembered his reply, "Sure. This is fun." Truthfully, he had been scared out of his mind, and she knew it. She had turned and smiled at him reassuringly. The flash of teeth and the friendly and loving upward curl of her lip had been enough to sedate his fears, however temporarily.   
  
"I look down at the people and I think about how everybody's got problems," Max had said, staring down at the world below them. Logan remembered thinking that they truly were the only ones in the world up on the Needle. How he had wished it could stay that way, that in a few hours he wouldn't be sending her back to Manticore on an extremely dangerous mission. "Maybe not a secret government agency on their ass," Max had continued. "But, you know, problems." She had turned to face him, the wind whipping her hair out of the way so he could see more of her lovely face, "And if I sit up here long enough I start to feel like I'm just one of those people, a regular girl."   
  
Logan had smiled and said, "Well, I hate to break it to you, Max, but you're never going to be a regular anything." She had smiled at him and walked back to where he had been sitting.   
  
~~**~~  
As he sat in the same spot after her death, Logan could practically feel the heat of her body and the smell of her skin, as he had that night. She had sat beside him, nearly snuggling close to his body. All he had to do was slip his arm across her shoulder and pull her to him but he hadn't. She had been too absorbed in thought. Her brain had been too in the game for him to distract her.   
~~**~~  
  
"I know you're not too chill with what's going on tonight," Max had said to him. "And I thank you for keeping your concerns to yourself. It's a bitch psyching yourself up for battle when people are throwing around words like 'deathwatch.'"   
  
Logan had looked at her, "Well, I think I know you well enough by now. There's no stopping you if there's something you need to do, especially when it comes to your family."   
  
Max had turned to face him, her eyes full of honesty and sincerity, "You're my family as much as anyone." She had been so heartfelt, so expressive, that Logan had known she was telling the truth. He felt the same way- she was his family too, more so than his won blood family. "Only we're never going to be any kind of anything if it keeps on like this," she had finished.   
  
"I know," he had replied. Logan tried telling her with his eyes how much he knew, that he knew they were family, and that he knew they weren't going to get anymore if Manticore didn't keep getting in their way. He had made a vow to himself at that moment that if they got through the mission, then he was going to take some real time off and just get to know her. He had wanted to develop and nurture their relationship. It was not something he had wanted to slip away because he was too focused on work.   
  
Max had turned her head away from him, her mind somewhat on the same track as his, "One way or another, after tomorrow the world's going to be a different place for me." His dark angel captured his gaze and pierced straight into his soul, "For both of us."   
  
~~**~~  
Logan sighed and stared out at Seattle. It was still damp, cool, and overcast. Even though Max had died, his reason for living had vanished, the world still went on as normal. Everyone was still going about their daily lives, working for his or her own quid pro quo. He wondered if Max had known when they had sat together how different the world was going to be without her. How different his world was without her.   
~~**~~  
  
"It's going to be alright," he had told her. Had he really believed that? Maybe he had wanted to, needed to. Otherwise, he might not have been able to let her go on the mission in the first place. Max had made some comment about a bird after that. He had wanted to ask her what she meant and why she and her siblings had been so freaked out by a crow, but he had refrained. He knew that if she had wanted to tell him, she would have.   
  
They had sat in silence for a long time, just looking out over Seattle. Eventually, Max had reached over and grabbed his wrist, looking at his watch. "We should get back," she had said, a hint of sadness and regret in her voice.   
  
Logan had brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. "Okay," he had said softly. He took her hand and they had climbed back through the window. Back at the hatch, they had once again climbed into their harnesses, this time Logan had connected them while max threaded the line. "This is going to be faster than when we came up," she had told him. From the look in her eyes, Logan could tell Max had wished their descent wasn't going to be faster than their ascent. They had both wanted it to last forever. Because they had known that once they touched the ground, they would be forced back into the real world. On top of the Needle, Logan had felt that they were somehow outside of the harsh reality they lived in, if only for a few moments.   
  
Logan had kept his arms firmly around her the entire descent. She had rested her head against his chest, silently threading the line as they headed for the ground. When their feet hit the pavement, Logan had felt Max tighten her arms around him briefly, before disentangling themselves and extracting them from the harness. Then, with a tug, she had yanked the line down from the top of the Needle. "We might need this tonight," she explained, throwing it in the back of the car.   
  
Climbing in beside her, Logan had abandoned his earlier desire not to put his arm around her. "Why don't you close your eyes for a while. Catch a few zzzz's before we get back to the warehouse. I know you don't sleep, but you're gonna need all the strength you can to beat this bitch." He had smiled wryly, knowing she would find it amusing the rich white boy had used her street lingo.   
  
Max had chuckled and gladly closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder, lightly running her fingertips over his stubble and kissing his jaw line before allowing herself to doze off.   
  
~~**~~  
Sitting on top of the Needle, Logan thanked God he had done that. It was another memory of Max in his arms, memories of which he had too few. One of which was excruciatingly painful.   
~~**~~  
  
Before Logan had realized, it had been time for the X-5s to fall out. He had tried to keep himself busy inside the truck, and had hacked into the Manticore security cameras just as he heard Lydecker say he'd detonate the charges once all his kids were clear. Zach had given the order to fall out and the three X-5s had split, in total business mode. Max had hung back, shuffling her feet ever so slightly and looking nervously at Logan.   
  
"I'd kiss you," she said sadly. "But I have to keep my head in the game."   
  
Logan had nodded, understanding. In hindsight, he wished he *had* kissed her then, for it would have been the last kiss he would bestow upon her. Instead, he had reached out and cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb along her jaw line and tangling his fingers in her hair. He wanted to remember these sensations. He touched her shoulder and said softly, "Just come back." He had smoothed her hair and stepped back, letting her go. He remembered that Max had looked at him for a few more seconds before resigning herself to what had to be done and ran off to join the others.   
  
During the actual mission, Logan had tried as hard as he could to be objective, to keep his own head in the game and not to be constantly focused on Max. Krit and Syl had popped up on his radar first and he and Lydecker had steered them through with ease. Then Logan had stared at the other monitor, waiting for Max and Zach to appear. Thankfully, they had moments later and Max had asked, "Logan?"   
  
"I've got you Max," he had said firmly. He had wanted her to know that he was there. That he would always be there. The mission had gone smoothly, even in the first few moments after the alarm began to sound. It wasn't until Lydecker had opened his trap and told them about Brin that things had gone south. Logan almost wished Lydecker hadn't mentioned it, but he knew they had to know. Brin could have disarmed the bombs and made their entire mission for naught, or she could have died in the blast. And Logan had known Max wouldn't let that happen. Looking at the monitor, Logan could tell Zach wanted to fight Max on it. But the serious and earnest look Max had shot at the camera, at Logan, just reaffirmed he could not tell her no. He had been right up on the Needle. She was going to do whatever she set her mind to, especially for her family.   
  
The moments Max had been on radio silence as she tracked Brin were unbearable. The seconds were ticking by and Logan had known there was a pack of X-7s in the field, searching madly for the rogues. When he had seen max sprint out of the compound, his heart had sung. She was clear. With some persuasion, Lydecker had detonated the lab and Logan's mind had immediately returned to getting the soldiers back to home, especially Max. Syl and Krit were most definitely on their way back. Zach and Max were another story. "I'm almost home!" Max had answered him as Logan began ticking away the seconds until the nightmare would be over and their normal life together could begin.   
  
But a single gunshot had changed everything.   
  
~~**~~  
Logan sat on top of the Space Needle and jumped when he heard a car backfire on the ground below. Tears filled his eyes and he hung his head, remembering each second of what had happened next, feeling as though everything had happened in slow motion. He still couldn't quite grasp what had happened. It was too unbelievable. After all they had been through, after coming so close to happiness and normality, it had been sucked away from them with a single gunshot. It truly did seem like it had happened to someone else-like maybe it was a story he had heard. Sometimes if he closed his eyes, he could forget the sound of the gunshot, the feeling of utter dread that had run through him as he had run from the van and into the woods in search of Max, praying she was okay.   
~~**~~  
  
*Scarlet red drips from my veins  
What's wrong with me that I imagine such things  
And if only for a moment  
Let there be peace*   
  
When he had come upon her wounded body, his heart had stopped. The breath had caught in his throat and all his worst fears were realized. Logan Cale knew pain more acutely than he had ever known it. Seeing Max so wounded was worse than any pain he had felt because of his paralysis, physical or emotional. Seeing her bleeding and dying brought an ache that ran straight through his soul and a blinding pain for which there was no easing. "Max!" he had cried, his voice strangled. Logan had dropped to the earth beside her and gathered her up in his arms, cradling her like a baby, rocking her and desperately looking for some sign of life. Her mouth had worked and her eyes took a few minutes to focus on his face. "Max. Oh, God. Okay, it's okay. You're going to be okay." He kept wishing she would be. But there had been so much blood...   
  
He had pulled open the front of her camouflage and seen the hole in her chest where the bullet had entered. He wondered if she was in great pain. He hoped not. The blood was beginning to gush form the wound and some of it had already dried, dark and black, on her skin and on the fabric, making it stiff. "This isn't bad," he had lied, more to himself than to her.   
  
*And how can I live with this pain  
I don't have the strength to conquer this shame  
And if only for a moment  
Let there be peace*   
  
Max had known she was dying. When her eyes finally focused on his face, his angel had smiled and murmured his name, "Logan." Her eyes were wet with unshed tears and Logan could tell by the statement on her face she had known she was dying. But the smile told him she was glad he was there with her, glad if she was going to die, it was going to be in his arms.   
  
"It's okay. You're going to be all right," he had whispered, trying not to weep, his face close to hers. His eyes were wild. He was in shock. He couldn't believe this was happening.   
  
"I'm sorry," she had moaned, beginning to weep. Max had turned her face into his chest and had cried.   
  
"No, no, no, no," he had said soothingly, aching even more to see her cry. "No, we're going to get you out of here." Logan had tried to scoop her up in his arms, but she was dead weight and he was in too much shock to get his upper body to respond in the way he wanted it to. "Okay, it's going to be all right," Logan had said to his beloved, rocking her as she had wept.   
  
*And tell me did you know  
That I still won't let it go  
And just maybe you're still flying free  
If only*   
  
"There's something I've got to tell you," Max had said, her voice hoarse, her tone pleading and full of grief and regret. "I should have told you a long time ago." She had begun to cry again, harder, and Logan had been afraid it would waste too much of her diminishing strength. Even though he felt her growing increasingly limp in his arms and could literally see the life flowing out of her, he still believed she was going to be okay. She had just needed to relax, and he was going to get her help.   
  
"It can wait," he had told her, his eyes full of tears. *Please don't die Max,* he had thought, wishing they had some kind of telepathy, that she could hear him.   
  
"Logan," she had said again, as though she was going to tell him whatever it was she should have told him a long time ago. He moved his face closer to hers, waiting to hear what it was she had so desperately wanted to tell him.   
  
"Max."   
  
But then her eyes had rolled back in her head and her lids had closed. Her head had rolled to one side and Logan felt her chest deflate as she expelled a final breath. He waited for her to take another, but he never felt her chest rise against his.   
  
"Max." He had shaken her. "Max." Had taken her delicate face in his large hands, praying she would open her eyes. However, when she had failed to open her eyes, the heavy realization and pain had set in. "Max. No. Max. No." It was a litany. A prayer. A request. Logan had sobbed, pulling Max's limp body closer to his and burying his face in her hair. He had barely registered Lydecker's presence at first, but when the man had checked her for a pulse, Logan had been briefly filled with hope. Maybe she had just passed out, not died. Maybe she wasn't really gone. Maybe...   
  
"She's gone."   
  
No! Everything within Logan's being had cried no. "I'm going to get her back inside," he had said through his weeping, trying to scoop her up and get his body to comply, to stand, to carry her back to where they could help her.   
  
And damn her.   
  
"No!" Lydecker had commanded.   
  
"They can fix her up in there," Logan had said desperately, not willing to believe she was really dead. She had just been there. Smiling at him. Saying his name. She had something to tell him. He had to know what it was. Why was she gone? They were supposed to be in a different world now. Manticore was gone. They were going to be able to be happy...   
  
"Listen, I know how you feel, son, but you've got to let her go." Lydecker was adamant. But Logan refused to let her go. He couldn't. He tried picking her up again. The next thing he felt was pain in his head and the world had gone black. When he had awoken, Max was gone, and they were back in the van. Lydecker was driving and Syl and Krit were sitting in the command chairs, looking bereaved. Logan had sat up cautiously, trying to ignore the dizziness and pain in his head.   
  
*Tell me why I left you alone  
I searched for your voice  
And I should have known  
That if only for a moment  
You'd be with me*   
  
"How could you leave her?" he had asked. "They could have helped her."   
  
"They would have turned her," Krit had said bitterly.   
  
"Max, turned?" Logan had spat, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. "You don't know her at all, do you?"   
  
"She was my sister!" Krit had cried, springing to his feet.   
  
"Well I loved her too!" Logan bellowed, before the dizziness overtook him and he had been forced to rest his head against the side of the van.   
  
*And tell me did you know  
That I still won't let it go  
And just maybe you're still flying free*   
  
"She loved you too," Syl had whispered, sliding off her chair and sitting next to Logan. "I could see it."   
  
Logan had looked at Max's sister and once again tears filled his eyes. "She tried to tell me," he said brokenly. "She tried and I told her it could wait." He felt Syl put her arms around him and he wept. He didn't remember much else after that. He had no idea how he got home, or when Bling had appeared, He didn't remember being forced to eat, or Syl telling him to keep in touch. He didn't remember Lydecker saying he was sorry or Original Cindy coming over, with tears in her eyes. Bling told him she had held him and they had wept together, but Logan didn't remember being held. All he remembered was the numbness.   
  
It had taken a week for the numbness to wear off. Logan had wanted to have a memorial service, but Cindy told him Jam Pony had already done one during his catatonia. Logan had wept again and left, coming to the Needle. Cindy had taken temporary residence at his place, with Bling's permission. She had said she couldn't return to the apartment, not yet.   
  
*If only I could change the way  
You were torn away from me  
I would never let you go  
I'd learn a way  
The plans we made  
Return to me  
And I am not afraid*   
  
~~**~~  
Sitting on top of the Needle, Logan contemplated ending it all. Max wasn't there to save him this time. She was gone. She had been his reason for being for months and now she was gone. She had brought light back into his lonely reclusive world and now she was gone. She was gone and all he felt was pain, grief, and loss. But Logan knew that he couldn't. Because he *was* feeling. He wasn't numb anymore. And he couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't really gone. Because he still felt in his heart the way he had felt when she was alive. If she was truly dead, Logan firmly believed he would feel it in his soul. Max had felt it when he was dying, he was sure of it. They were connected, bonded, even before the first transfusion.   
  
All he could hope was that she was okay, out there somewhere, waiting for him to find her, or trying to come back. On top of the Needle Logan vowed to find her, to find something. Her friends deserved to know where she was, one way or another. And he deserved closure.   
  
"I'm gonna find you Max, I promise," Logan vowed as he stood and climbed back through the broken window.   
  
*And tell me did you know  
That I still won't let it go  
And just maybe you're still flying free  
And tell me did you know  
That I still can't let you go  
And just maybe you're still flying free  
If only*   
  
"Find me Logan," Max whispered to the darkness of the Manticore infirmary, lulled by the sound of Zach's beating heart. The music, however dreadful, of her brother's heart, did not drown out the sound of Logan's voice. Maybe she was hearing things, delusional from all the drugs they had her on. But she and Logan were connected. By blood and love and battle and loneliness and the solace they had found in each other. In her hospital bed, Max vowed to return to Seattle, to fight the reprogramming. Damn the Renfro bitch, she *would* see Logan again.   
  
"Find me."  
~~**~~  
  
END  
  



End file.
